Common Misconceptions
by Heart in Spades
Summary: Adessa Pearce is a pureblood of stunning power and intellect, member of a secret society, and entering Hogwarts for her first year. When life takes a turn for the dramatic, she finds herself having to come to terms with the fact that "to err is human."
1. Diary: Introductions and Observations

My first Fanfic, so don't be too harsh and please, please, PLEASE review. I know it's a bit monotonous, but it'll get interesting.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my own characters. J.K. rules (owns) all.

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August 30, 1994

Dear pointless, frustrating, idiotic Diary,

Do you really realise how _stupid _this is – writing in a diary I mean. You wouldn't, would you, because you're an inanimate object right? That's what I thought. Mother seems to believe that all girls my age (and younger, though I have managed to evade her for this long) should own a diary in which they write down their deepest, darkest secrets. I have resolved not to do so, as Father has told me time and again to _never _write down my secrets on anything that can be stolen. This diary is charmed to return to my things if I ever lose it as well as to appear as the novel of my choice in the case that someone other than me should read it. But still, when a lesson is enforced that…persistently, one doesn't tend to take chances.

Since this is a diary, I'm guessing I'm to write diary-like things in it. I guess I'd better get started, in the off chance that Mother bursts into my room (the door of which I have carefully warded to the best of my ability, so her entrance is unlikely) and sees what little progress I have made. If that were to happen, I can be certain that my punishment would be severe. When Lady Breonna Pearce tells you to do something, you do it. Fast.

Anyway, I'm to start my first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in two days, and I can't exactly say I'm excited. I'm not sad to go – I'd do anything to get away from the monotony of my home life – but I honestly don't understand what can be gained from sending me _there_.

I can already see it. The excited faces of the students as they boarded the train, them running back at the last second to spend one more moment in their mothers' arms before leaving on the train to a school that taught things they could never have imagined, the awe and sense of wonderment as they arrived at Hogwarts castle…absolutely pathetic.

It is, after all, just a damn train ride, and neither Hogwarts castle, nor the subjects taught there were _quite _that amazing. Did I miss anything? Oh yeah, right, that. Like hell I'm saying goodbye to Mother. Like hell she'd give me the chance.

Don't get me wrong here – I'm not some whiny little snot-nosed brat who thinks their life is just so terrible. I'm actually just an eleven-year-old girl whose been spoiled rotten all her life, who _knows _her life is so terrible. And for the record, I don't whine. If something's a problem for me, I'll get you back so bad with an artfully constructed, foolproof revenge plan, but I won't say a word about it. My whole family's Slytherin through and through. If you hadn't noticed.

My name, because I'm told it is important to mention such things in an introduction, is Adessa Jezebel Cecilia Pearce. I _hate_ my name. The names do not bother me individually, but together they form a most displeasing arrangement. When introducing myself to anyone of magical descent, they never seem to "like" me until I tack on the "Pearce". At the mere mention of my last name, they turn to putty in my hands. It's pitiful, really. I mean, I know we're one of the most influential pure-blooded families in the wizarding world, but one thing that my parents have always told me is that you must always, always, _always_ keep face, no matter who is standing before you. It really doesn't make sense to me why anyone would feel the need to turn into a blubbering idiot while talking to a person who could completely alter their life forever on a whim.

This morning at breakfast, Mother and Father started out eating quietly as usual ("family meals are meant to be shared in silence," Mother always says) the only sound being that of the house-elves scurrying about, and the rare clink of the silverware against the china.

Business as usual, I had thought. Not so. Just as I was finishing my _oeufs en cocotte,_ who but Ian Gerard (and he's the patriarch of the Gerard family, if you were wondering. Though neither exceedingly powerful nor wealthy, they are still pure-blood) should come bursting in through the doors of our dining hall, looking flustered and wild-eyed, as if he had just learned a crucial piece of information and had rushed right over to tell Father. I notice these things. I shan't say how. Very few are high enough in my family's favour to be able to so impolitely interrupt our breakfast, not to mention enter the building without our knowledge. The Gerards are not among them.

Father was not pleased, to say the least. Not one for rushing things when one has substantial time to do them, he slowly pushed his back, rose to his feet, and withdrew his wand, a fine instrument, made of yew with a hair taken from a siren, which is quite unusual for a wand, but that wand does suit Father very well.

Father's formerly unreadable face suddenly turned hard, cruel. It did nothing to shock me, however, as it is something I see often. He twirled his wand between his fingers. They were pale, even against the yew wood. He looks as pale as snow, my father does, and his eyes are as cold and hard as ice. I find it reflective of his personality.

It was almost too sudden for me to follow, which is quite rare. Father had flicked his wand in that single, brisk motion that told me _exactly _what spell he was using. Mother hesitated a moment longer than usual before summoning a house-elf to remove the screaming, writhing man from the floor of our dining room. I noticed that the house-elf hesitated also before removing him, and Father waited just a fraction longer than usual before sitting himself done to his food once again. I felt like I was, once again, being kept in the dark. Or perhaps it is the other way around.

Once Gerard was gone, and his cries had ceased ringing through our dining hall, Mother and Father returned to their breakfasts as if nothing had happened. As I had no fondness for our current dish – something I vaguely recognised as a sort of mushroom and onion soufflé – I set about my daily examination of my parents.

What most people don't realise is that the minute changes in the appearance of others will often hint at various disruptions or improvements in their life. As I normally do, I surveyed my mother first. Her hair is a rich honey-gold that cascades down her neck to the small of her back in waves. I do so love her hair, and she is often complimented on it. Contrary to what many think, she places but a single charm upon her hair – which is to prevent anyone from setting it on fire, I find this quite practical, really. Mother doesn't believe in beauty charms (and she doesn't use them on her face or figure either) as she often says that "glamours are for the vain, and the vain are weak. We are of the Pearce lineage, and we are most certainly not weak". It interests me how she is the one to say this when she is the one who married into the family.

She has skin the colour of cream, though more of a rose tone that a yellow one, and she obviously has a flawless complexion. Her features are small and delicate, as is suitable for a lady of her station. Though not skin and bones, Mother is quite slender for her age 29 years, and resembles what I believe muggles call a "supermodel". I am still unsure whether or not this is an insult, but as most of the people who have described her as such aren't completely terrible company, I'm assuming for the time being that they mean it as a compliment. She had been wearing a high-collared gown in a rather flattering shade of emerald green that looked so tight that I found myself wondering if she could breathe. Though no stranger to corsets myself – a torture inflicted upon me by Mother if I ever especially displease her – I must say that that dress was pushing the limit. She held herself very straight and proud at the table (she is, after all, a Pearce) but I couldn't help but notice the stiffness of her pose, as if there were something…worrying her. Her overall appearance hinted that something was seriously distressing her. She is quite the expert at concealing her emotions, and so the trace of anxiety I found ghosting across her features was something I found quite disconcerting.

Moving on to Father, he looked quite the same as always, but who would I be if I didn't describe him anyway? His skin is a pale ivory white, so pale in fact, that the contrast it makes with the carbon black of his hair creates quite a dramatic effect. He has enough height and muscle to appear intimidating, and he utilizes them both to their full potential at all times. His jaw always appears hard, and his lips thin, as though something is annoying him, though no emotion ever shows itself upon his face. Father's eyes are as bright a blue as I have ever seen, though they flash sapphire when he is angry. He had been wearing plain black robes – as I suspect he still is, though I haven't seen him since – and only one with a fine eye, such as myself, as I have been raised to notice such details, can make out the enchantments woven throughout the fabric. It is a set of robes equal in monetary value to a small house. The only thing I could discern from his appearance was a hint of anger in his eyes, and a slight tenseness in his hands.

Mother has given to me exactly sixty-seven minutes in which I may write in this, and I do believe that that time is running out. I have this awful tendency to waste time. Mother has often tried to cure me of it, and I have received much punishment because of this fault of mine (one must always be efficient, Mother says, and if you aren't than you're just lazy) but I do still do not understand fully why I always need to be doing something productive.

On the subject of my doing nothing, about two weeks ago, I was forced to attend a function at the Johnston estate. I spent most of it with Leith Johnston, the only heir of the Johnston line and one of my closest acquaintances. Note that I hesitate to call him a "friend", because as Father says, "friends are for those who require the protection of others". Not that I think that the requiring of protection is a sin of the most unforgivable kind – we do all need some of form of protection at one point of our lives, especially during the infantile stage – but when Father speaks in such a manner, he expects to be listened to, and one learns very quickly that my father's expectations must _always _be met.

Since I did not have this diary at the time, and as nothing else interesting has happened today, I suppose I shall recount the incident at the function.

And, of course, just as I am finally (though I hate to admit it) getting used to writing in this diary, my mother has begun to pound furiously upon my door, as she has realised that _Alohomora _won't work. I wonder how long it will be before she figures out that she can send the –

Now Minsy – that's one of our house-elves, by the way – is tugging furiously on my sleeve (luckily my right one, as I am left-handed) and has already resorted to begging. I suppose it's my own fault that I forgot to ward my room against apparition, but then again, it does require a great deal of strength to prevent the apparition of house-elves, an act that many also (wrongly) believe to be impossible. Minsy is now resorting to using the threats my parents have dictated to her in the event that I misbehave and that she wouldn't under normal circumstances be allowed to use without having to resort to suicide. I probably should go now, as Minsy has already managed to remove my owl, library, broom and floo privileges, set me up for _three _dress-robe fittings tomorrow, and confined me to my room with the sole exception of meals until school starts, so I really need to go before she makes me translate my entire family history into German again.

Adessa Pearce

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Like it? Hate it? Review it please! Next chappie will be up probably soon after i start writing it:)


	2. Diary: The Greeting Words

Review please! I own only my own characters, plot, and some other things...J.K. Rowling is official owner of everything.

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August 31, 1994

Dear worthless, annoying Diary,

I had sat down to my desk to read my previous diary entry, and I have found that I promised to recount the evening spent at the Johnston's party – if you could call it a party. As I had not been feeling truly comfortable with writing down personal information in this diary, despite the numerous charms I have placed upon it, I brewed up a potion of my own making yesterday evening, to better conceal the contents of this diary. Its fundamental ingredients are a fine powder I made from grinding the shell of a dragon egg and the heartstring of a mermaid, both being quite difficult to procure. I use it to enhance the effects of my spells, and find it particularly potent when used for the amplification of spells of…darker origin. With this recent addition to this diary's defences, I feel it is safe enough to actually explain what happened that night in detail. I shall employ the use of a pensieve to make sure each detail is precise and accurate. As Father always says, "If you don't think you'll get it right, get it right anyway".

Since Mother had informed earlier that day that I would attend the function, I had to spend the day locked in my room with Penny – who's one of our house-elves and has a good eye for fashion – by Mother until I decided on what to wear. As I had been in a rather uncooperative mood at the time, I purposefully delayed even looking at my options until Penny, distraught that I wasn't following her mistress's orders began to bang her head against my nightstand, almost breaking it. It is an irreplaceable antique, and so I decided that I must put a stop to it. Unfortunately for me, that involved deciding on what to wear.

Three hours later, we had apparated onto the Johnston's doorstep. Father had dressed himself in a set of magnificent midnight blue dress robes with an onyx brooch at his throat, and Mother, well Mother was something else. I often hear people comment on how she looks flawlessly beautiful, but then, regular people don't normally see Mother when she's in formal wear. Opting for a gown instead of dress robes, Mother had chosen a mahogany mermaid-style piece that was made of the finest silk you could imagine. As it was strapless, Mother had to wear her shawl over it before we got inside. As expected, the house-elf answered the door. It looked distinctly more pitiful and deferential than our own, but I _do _have only our own house-elves to compare it to, and we require our own to have a certain degree of class. Once we had stepped inside the foyer, I felt almost as if my parents were giving off a glow. Though Mother's jewellery did shine in the light, it was more the aura they radiated, an aura of sophistication, of authority…of power. I rarely find myself thinking of my parents as imposing figures, but there, standing in the foyer of one of the most respectable pure-blood families in the world, nearly as old as the Malfoys, my parents presence felt almost overwhelming, which is a very rare sensation for me to feel, as I am often the one doing the overwhelming.

I do not normally like drawing attention to myself, but I found that my heels – a modest inch-and-a-half – were making clacking noises on the marble flooring, whereas Mother – who that evening found that her shoes elevated her three-and-a-half inches off the floor – was floating gracefully across the tiles without making a sound. When my right foot made a particularly loud clack, Mother whipped her head around to give me a stern look. I ducked my head in response, embarrassed. She had already taught me how to walk quietly in such an environment, but I hadn't been using the technique I had learned. I shall now later justify that I had good reason not to do so, as the style of walking my mother was trying to get me to master, involved rolling from the outside of the front part of the foot, to the inside and lowering the heel to suspend millimetres from the ground, before taking a step. I am normally quit apt in all my studies, including etiquette, but Mother still often says that walking will be the death of me. And because she says that, it probably will be. Fate hates me like that.

It hadn't been long before we had reached the doors to the Johnston's ballroom. Since we do, as a family, walk very quickly when there is no one there to see it, the house-elf was still panting along behind us, and had not yet reached the door to open it for us, as is proper. We had stopped in front of the door, and we were still waiting for the house-elf to catch up. I saw Mother purse her lips, which is a thing she does when she doesn't approve of a household or the way one is run – something I know is not the case, as she respects the Johnston family very much. The house-elf did look quite exhausted and incapable of performing the opening charm in the time-frame I wanted, so I nodded my head, and the door opened. Underage magic, yes, but the Ministry never expect an eleven-year-old could do the things I can. The Ministry doesn't suspect a lot of things.

As soon as we entered the room, silence fell like a blanket of snow over fields. They all backed away, forming a sort of aisle through we could walk to attain the front of the room, where stood the (current) matriarch and patriarch of the Johnson family. We started forward. We passed the Khanjirs first, then the Harrisons, then a multitude of other pure-blood families who I remember the name of, but do not have the time nor the energy to list here. They were aligned in order of status, lowest to highest, as they always were at such events. When I say such events, I mean that this one was special. One family is chosen every year to host _La__ Balle__ de la Rue_, which, for those unfamiliar with French – as no respectable pure-bloods are – means, roughly translated, The Road Ball, as it is there that the (metaphorical) roads are paved for the coming year, and the months of September, October, November, and December are given to prepare.

We neared the front of the room, and I noticed that the bows each family was presenting us with were growing shallower and shallower as their status increased. We passed the Parkinsons, the Zabinis, the Prewitts – who I may later need to make a comment upon – and the Malfoys right next to them. After we had passed a couple more families, such as were so powerful that there words were heard and abided by, rather than seen actually coming out of there mouths, we finally reached the Johnstons. Even if a family low in stature and wealth was hosting the event, they must always remain at the front of the hall, for…security reasons. What I'm saying is that they're the least likely to want their house destroyed.

"Aidan, Breonna, how wonderful it is to see you!" gushed Lady Myrna Johnston, giving them both a peck on the check, pure-blood style, which basically means over-exaggeratedly and with a whole boatload of meaning that no one else can ever seem to understand, "I'm _so_ glad you could make it."

She said that like we had a choice. At least one representative of each pure-blood family is required to attend _La Balle de la Rue _with the only exceptions being for those dead, on their deathbed, ill to the point of being incapacitated, legally missing, or in Azkaban. If _we _didn't come, people would start to think something was wrong.

"Oh, Adessa, darling! You've grown so much since I last saw you!" I should have known it was coming, but my heart still jumped into my mouth when the Lady Johnston cooed into my ear. It was true that I had grown an entire inch since our last meeting, but now that she'd addressed me, I had to answer. The Greeting Words, the words said between the host family and the most powerful party in attendance at the front of the chamber, are supposed to be laced with magic – a magic that makes them binding, powerful, and completely shapes the future of the wizarding world. As is standard, the Lady hostess makes three addresses. She had made one to my father, one to Mother and the last to me, meaning that it was I who would speak those words – the youngest in all history. Everyone in the hall was looking at me expectantly, waiting for the long-winded speech that I knew I then had to give, but hadn't thought to prepare before hand. Mother did always say that I was good with my spontaneity.

I relaxed my shoulders and pushed them back, raising my head in the way that Mother told me, in the case that I should make a formal address. I let my eyes flick to the families I knew I would affect deeply with my next words, before opening my mouth to speak.

"_My deepest thanks, Lady Johnston. I know us all to be very pleased with the event you have assembled for us." _I barely heard myself speak. I have the remarkable ability to sound achingly formal and interested at the same time, when I myself feel neither. _"As you all know, this gathering is the foundation of our lives this coming year. We pure-bloods, as a people, have been bestowed with the great ability to dictate our own lives. This is a great privilege, but also a great curse, for, however you choose to phrase it, no one who stands where I do now, will end the conflict between our houses. The old," _I gestured to the Malfoys, the Van Ahrans, _"the new," _the Khanjirs, the Schmitts, _"will have their rivalries according to the people who have been, and will be in a position such as I am._

"_We are always going to have our differences, in beliefs, ideals, lifestyles. And I implore you all, make your differences known. Otherwise, you may pay dearly. There is black and there is white, but accessible to us mortals, for we are all mortals, __are only shades of grey. Choose wisely, and stay true to what you as __**individuals **__believe in. You will need to. _

_You must never, __**ever **__let go of the past, for it will not let go of you," _My throat began to constrict at the words I was saying. I willed my voice to stay clear. _"Learn to accept your past as your own that you cannot change, and learn to define yourself through your own means, and be not seen constantly shrouded by the hands that hold you, be they gentle, firm, or like a vice._

_Ambitious plans may bring success," _here I paused for dramatic affect, for even though I don't like to seem pretentious, I do like to make myself sound interesting, _"or they may bring great failure. In some rare cases, the two shall meet. Be careful with your choices, and that is the message I leave for you know: Your choices are your own, so make them wisely. The choices of others may be not in your interest. Deal with it," _I probably shouldn't have said it like that, but I am eleven years old and making up an extraordinarily important speech on the spot. _"I bid you all to have a good evening, as we make preparations for the year to come, as it will be __**very **__special indeed." _

Contrary to what you may think, I knew exactly what I was saying. I was also bound by the most ancient magical laws of all time not to understand in the form of events. I knew what was going to happen, just not exactly what, who, when, how, or why.

Other things happened that evening, but Minsy is getting hysterical with her packing of my trunk, so I'd better go. Did I mention I start at Hogwarts tomorrow? Can't say that I'm exited.

Adessa Pearce

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Review please! Will get better i promise!


	3. The Altus Liberi Fortuna Society: Part 1

Review Please! In case you hadn't noticed, this chappie isn't in diary format. The next one won't be either.  
I own only my stuff. J.K. owns everything else.

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She had given her speech, and the last words still lingered in the air, ringing in the ears of everyone in the room. The Greeting Words weren't normally quite that heavy, and it was already different enough that the Words were given by an eleven-year-girl, but after thinking about it, most realised it made some sort of sense – after all, the world had never seen a power that could compare to Adessa Pearce.

The people lined up in the ballroom slowly broke ranks to mingle once again. Adessa, relieved at the Word-giving being over, let her shoulders relax. She felt a hand fall heavily onto her shoulder – her father.

"You mustn't look so relieved, Adessa. You're perilously close to losing face, and we both know why that can't happen," he said, his voice low and smooth, threatening, almost. Adessa gave a tiny nod of the head to acknowledge him and curtseyed slightly, deep enough to show respect, but no more. "Be as important as you can be," her parents would always say, "do not defer to anyone unless it is required of you."

Her father jerked his head in the direction of the other guests, signalling that she should go mingle. As she always did when her father asked something of her, Adessa obeyed. "Walk like everyone is beneath you," her mother would say, and so she did.

Adessa made her way through the crowd, walking with her head held high, back straight, shoulders back – every way a pure-blood girl should. Although it seemed as if she was just wandering randomly, she really had a specific goal in mind. Unfortunately for her, social conventions required her to stop and exchange words with every pure-blood similar in standing to her. She was halfway across the room when she found herself face to face with Lord Kent Dallinger. She'd actually prayed silently before arriving at Johnston's that he had taken gravely ill and would have to send another family member in his stead, but there he was.

She knew very well that he hated her family with a passion, and she suddenly realised that her words would make it very difficult for him the coming year. _"Oh well," _she thought to herself, _"I was the one who put myself in this situation." _

Dallinger bowed, a grin on his face as if mocking her. She barely stopped herself from frowning. _No one _mocks Adessa Pearce, the only daughter of _the _most powerful house in all of Europe and possibly the entire world. She wondered briefly how he dared insult her family in such a public setting before she finally understood. _"Oh," _she realised, almost quirking an eyebrow before stopping herself just in time, _"he's treating me like a kid. Idiot. I just laid down the future of the entire wizarding world, and he __**still **__thinks of me as a child!" _

"Lord Dallinger."

He took her hand, tiny inside his, and gently brushed his lips against it. "Young Lady Adessa." Even though she hated him, he still made her feel important. Even if he was from a house old enough that she couldn't bully him like some of the others, she could still play around a little bit.

"I wonder, what were your thought on my Words? It is rare that I partake in something of such importance, I was worried I'd be at a loss for words," she finished with a laughing tone, something her mother had taught her to use for a time when actual laughter is inappropriate. Adessa had accomplished three things with what she had said – the first being that she would make Lord Dallinger uncomfortable as well as making him lie, the second being that she hinted that though rare, she _had _done things of incredible importance, and the third being that she stated that her speech had been given flawlessly. To the last two, Dallinger had no means to politely deny it.

"You spoke wonderfully, Young Lady Adessa, very clear. A very…potent choice of words," he said, his voice cracking slightly near the end. She smiled in response, making it seem as though she hadn't noticed. Although she hated formalities, it was still clear to her that Lord Dallinger was getting quite uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going. _"If someone is uncomfortable or anxious, make sure that you let them know that __**you **__know it"_ – again, another quote from her mother. Etiquette lessons were very extensive.

"And how is Lady Dallinger?"

"Very well, thank you."

Adessa seriously doubted that, as whoever Lady Dallinger was changed every two or three months and no one had seen the current one – Kaoru something-or-other of Japanese decent – for several weeks. As there were already many rumours surrounding the subject, as their always were in pure-blood society, Adessa chose to believe not a single one.

Lord Dallinger gave a slight bow, signalling that their conversation was now over. Adessa gave a tight, brisk curtsy before re-entering the throng of people. _"Great,"_ she huffed, _"now I'm going to be late." _And though it was true that she was going to be late, she wouldn't be the only one. As she neared her destination – the front of the room, nearer the door – she spotted someone waiting for her there. Leith Johnston, the only child of the Johnston family, the only one with the right to inherit their assets, their estates, as well as carry on the line. Adessa also hated most people who already had their lives planned out for them. _Most _people.

"Young Lady Adessa," he greeted her, bowing and kissing her hand like his upbringing dictated. He was fifteen, and towered above her at 5"9. His blonde hair was short, but long enough to brush the sides of his face. Adessa stowed away the image of his face in her head for future use. The son of the Johnstons could end up being _very _problematic.

"Young Lord Leith. May I offer my compliments on your family's hosting of this evening?" Adessa finished with a little head cock to the side, indicating to Leith – who would surely notice, as that was her goal – that she really didn't want to continue the conversation any further.

He offered a gentle smile; one that she knew would make any other pure-blood girl swoon, whereas Adessa found the dung of Yanimurs more appealing – which is understandable really, as the Yanimur defecates precious gems, including one particularly large diamond that her mother had managed to sell for over twenty-thousand galleons.

"You may, and I accept them most gratefully. Would you do me the honour of a stroll through the gardens?" Thankful that he wasn't dragging on, Adessa smiled, placing her small hand on the proffered arm. She had also the caught the double meaning in his words, and the look in his eyes that said, _"We both know we have to be at the same place at the same time, so let's __**go **__already!"_Needless to say, they went.

It wasn't long before they reached the beginning of the Johnston's private gardens, dubbed the "Gardens of Theory" several centuries back, though no one knew why. Adessa had a feeling she would soon find out.

As soon as she laid eyes upon the garden, she barely suppressed a gasp. Before her was a stunning myriad of multicoloured flora, all lined up alongside a cobblestone path, barely wide for the two to pass through abreast. They began walking. The garden had various fountains and statues that rendered it a seemingly utopian place. The scent of roses, bougainvilleas, tulips, orchids, all invaded her senses, as she nearly lost herself to the serenity of it all.

Bringing herself back to reality, she stopped Leith near a vine-covered trellis. "We're here," she said, her voice ringing clear through the garden. Leith looked down at her, an eyebrow raised questioningly. Adessa gestured towards a somewhat smushed dandelion that lay at the base of the trellis – the only plant that didn't truly belong.

"Should I say it, or should you?" asked Leith, eyes fixed on the dandelion. Adessa rolled her eyes at him, a gesture her mother often referred to as common, but they _were _only in each other's company.

"You do it – I'm tired."

Leith knelt down to pick up the dandelion, cradling it in his fingers as if it were a pet. He looked at Adessa, and she placed her hand on his shoulder. He was surprised at how strong it felt. He'd often hear people – his parents included – talking about how talented the Young Lady Adessa Pearce was, but not until he'd seen her in person for the first time, some five years ago, did he see how powerful she truly was. Energy, good and bad alike, seemed to flock to her, seeping out of her pores, dancing around her, through her. And she didn't even notice. Maybe, he would wonder, it was because he had the Magical Eye and she didn't, or she'd never thought of using it on herself, either way, she quite possibly the strongest person Leith had ever met – and he'd met Dumbledore.

"_Fio quis vos erant no futurus," _he hissed the incantation like it was venom coming off his tongue. The dandelion gave a shudder in his palm, and morphed slowly until it took the form of a perfect white camellia.

Adessa felt the familiar tug behind her navel, as the portkey took them to their final destination. Using the very advanced technique of Far-Seeing that she had been teaching herself throughout the summer, Adessa sought out her parents in the crowded ballroom. They were obviously – obvious to Adessa, who is an expert in these things – annoyed by her leaving the ballroom, but they would forgive her; they always did. The evening was far from over, the adults having just started to move towards the food. That was all very well – it meant they had more time than last year.

The journey though the portkey was unusually long, but Adessa figured it must be far away, for secrecy. As soon as she heard Leith's feet hit the ground, and hers following shortly after, she threw up a shield, just in case. She heard Leith crumple to the ground beside her – obviously he hadn't had the same idea.

"Lower your shields, please. I need to at least blindfold you." The voice was young, male. Adessa gave a small grin in the darkness before removing her barriers. She understood the necessity of the location and who and what were present to remain absolutely secret to the outside.

She felt a strip of silk being wrapped around her head, the person holding it was taking an obvious amount of care with her, tying it neither too tight that it was painful, nor too loose that it should fall off. She felt a cold hand slide into hers to guide her through the dark, while the voice cast a muttered "Levicorpus," on Leith.

Though she could manage much better, she let her heels click on the floor, which was useful for mapping her surroundings through use of her Far-Seeing, as the echoes provided her with something of an image she could picture with her Far-Sight. Even though the location was meant to be safe, Adessa wanted to be prepared unless anything went wrong.

"We're here," the boy said, tiredly almost.

Adessa heard a sound like an opening door, and then she was being guided gently inside, and instructed to sit down in a chair, that, from the air flow, felt as though it were in the very center of a large room. She knew what would happen – she'd participated before.

"Liberacorpus," the boy sighed. Adessa heard Leith's unconscious body drop to the floor. The boy retreated, leaving Adessa alone in the chair and Leith on the ground beside her. She folded her hands in her lap, and sat forward in her chair, back straight.

"State your name." The voice was emotionless, feminine, and rang clear through the young girl's ears.

"Adessa Jezebel Cecilia Pearce." She was to say her name and nothing more.

The voice continued. "State your family's status as pure-bloods."

"We are the oldest lineage ever traced, of which Merlin could never have dreamed. They say that power has run through our veins since the beginning of magic itself." This seemed to satisfy the voice, but it continued its interrogation nonetheless.

"Exactly how loyal was your supposed family of Pearce to the one they now call He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" It was a loaded question, and one Adessa found herself having to think about a great deal.

Adessa cleared her throat. "Pearce has never been loyal to Lord Voldemort," she paused to make sure no one had been offended by the name that she always used, "and though we do believe in purity of blood, it is for an entirely different reason. We do not support his ideals, and we never have. Pearce has never truly thrown ourselves to any side – dark or light – although we limit ourselves not when it comes to the use of dark magic."

"Thank you for your patience, Adessa. You may remove your blindfold. The real Leith Johnston has a charmed star tattoo behind his left ear. It is untraceable, and cannot be copied through any means. Check it is there on this boy."

Adessa removed the blindfold and immediately knelt down beside the still unconscious Leith. Brushing away the locks of blonde hair, she found the star, standing out even against his tan skin, and it was rich with power. She nodded, and stepped back.

As she did so, she took the time to survey the room. The layout was similar to what it always was – large and airy with twenty or so chairs arranged in a circle along its extremities, with the one chair in the middle where she had been sitting, and the high, throne-style chair where the owner of the voice sat at the front of the room.

The lighting was decently bright, even though the only apparent light sources were a handful of witchlights floating in random spaces. The ceiling was high, and had a scene carved into the stone. It felt like a sacred place, like a church almost, but with no windows. Adessa sighed – she felt at home.

"Enervate," Adessa heard the boy say from behind her. Leith woke with a start and immediately began glaring daggers at the spellcaster.

Adessa turned around to see someone who she knew very well. She grinned, the way she only ever did when she was with someone she was comfortable with a being courteous didn't matter.

"I think you got here early," she said jokingly, relaxing her stance a little now that she had seen that he was no one to be afraid of.

"I think you're late," he replied, smiling. "But I'm willing to forgive you."

"I am too."

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Oooh, a cliifhanger! I wonder who the boy is...actually i know, but i'm not telling. Be my first reviewer please!!!!!!!!!!!!(It's kind of depressing not getting any reviews).


	4. The Altus Liberi Fortuna Society: Part 2

Reviews are more than welcome!!! Sorry it took so long...I had TWO book reports to do.

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Adessa let a grin make its way onto her face, stepping forward her to hug the older boy. "I missed you, Blaise."

"Missed you too, Dess."

Fourteen-year-old Blaise Zabini took a step back to observe his friend. It had been by pure happenstance that they had met for the first time, when Adessa had been four and he was seven. As they were both of important families, their parents later tried to push them together, only to find that they already knew each other.

Despite his reputation as being an independent Slytherin, unable to be tied down by anyone, Blaise had always had a soft spot for the Pearce heiress. In a way, she was like the sister he'd always wanted to have. More like an older sister than a younger one though, as he was always the one seeking advice from her, rather than the other way around. Her mind and power had always fascinated him, but what he admired the most about her was her integrity. At eleven years old, she was the only pure-blood he had ever met that could stand up to societal pressures – as well as others – with such an astonishing amount of poise.

At the front of the room, someone cleared their throat. Adessa, Blaise and Leith - who still hadn't gotten off the floor, but then hastened to his feet – all whipped their heads around to face the woman who sat before them.

She was tall, one could easily see, despite her sitting position, and appeared to be in her late twenties or early thirties. Her hair was pulled in a strawberry-blonde chignon at the back of her head, with a few strands left hanging to frame her face. She was quite beautiful as people go, but her face held such a look of determination and authority that it was hard not to take her seriously – unless you knew her, that is.

"It's been a while, Emily," commented Adessa, her tone light. The woman smiled.

"That it has. You look well – how have things been going with you-know-what?" Emily leaned forward in her seat, letting her chin rest in her palm.

Adessa rolled her eyes. "Everything's fine, Emily. You'd know if it wasn't," she said, crossing her arms. Standing beside her, Blaise yawned loudly.

"Mind telling me what you're talking about?" he asked, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow. Adessa wrinkled her nose.

"I do mind."

Blaise threw up his hands defensively. "Okay, okay. You do whatever you want. I'm just saying that this is a secret location – no one else would have to know."

"We would," Leith called from the seat he had already taken in a far corner of the room. Adessa had almost completely forgotten about him. Blaise walked away to take a seat on the opposite side of the room from Leith, shaking his head.

Adessa turned towards Emily. "Where am I sitting today?" she asked, sarcasm dripping off her tongue. Emily leaned back in her chair, a smile beginning to tug at the corner of her mouth once again.

"Where I've made you sit for the past seven years."

Adessa rolled her eyes again before spitting on the floor in defiance – a gest that would have made her mother faint – and flouncing off to her seat, located right next to Emily's. She'd always hated sitting there, as it let the entire room see her without interference, and the position at Emily's right hand made her feel nervous, as if there were expectations that she could not meet.

Adessa surveyed the room's occupants. Though to a regular person – even a witch or wizard – a sweep of the room would reveal no one but her, Emily, Blaise and Leith, using her Magical Sight, she could see through the multitude of befuddlement, disillusionment, and concealing charms the other people had placed upon themselves to try to keep themselves hidden from her view.

Every chair was filled now, with the exception of the one at Emily's left, which had remained so for as long as any of them could remember. Adessa gave a nod up to Emily – whose chair was on an elevated platform – and returned her attention to the room as Emily began to speak.

"She can see you all, you know. No point in hiding any longer," said Emily, slightly amused.

Slowly but steadily, people began appearing seemingly out of nowhere. Adessa heard several mutterings of spells being cast to negate the effects of their previously cast charms, and noticed the odd person slip off an invisibility cloak. As every person came into normal vision, Adessa promptly examined them before stowing their faces away inside her head She felt it necessary, as even though she knew every single one of them quite well, people change from year to year, sometimes quite a bit, and she couldn't afford to be unprepared should some problem arise.

They were soon all revealed – twenty-two pure-blood children all under the age of seventeen. Emily smiled as they all turned their heads toward her, anticipating what her next mission for them would be. They were all the most powerful of their generation, and she couldn't help but feel that they wouldn't be in the position they were then if it hadn't been for her.

Emily Helion had been born and reared a pure-blood witch of wealth and prowess, and had been absorbed into this super-secret society at the age of eight. She had always accredited her coming out of her shell to her mentor at the time, an aging man by the name Roark Clifford. When she was nineteen, she found out that he had died, and had named her as his successor. And so it was that she was now the Mistress of the Altus Liberi Fortuna Society, or ALFS.

The society dated back to a time far before Merlin, and had stayed virtually unnoticed since then. There was absolutely no mention of it in any records or even legends of any kind on the society, with the exception of the information the society kept itself.

The members of the ALFS were all pure-blood, and underage, comprised mostly of the sole heirs to their house. Despite all this, there was one requirement that absolutely had to be met in order to be even considered for the society – power. Sitting in that room, referred to as the Council Chamber by the ALFS, were children who possessed such an incredible amount of magical strength, that the effect of them all being in the same room at once could destroy a large city, if even just one of them so wished it.

The chairs placed in the Council Chamber began to resemble more to thrones than simple chairs, as that was the effect of the people sitting in them. They were arranged in order of the highest ranking – the most talented and intelligent – starting on either side of Emily with the empty space at her left, stretching around both sides of the circle to conclude with the two chairs sitting on either side of the doors, for the members of the society least powerful, but still greatly surpassing the abilities of a regular witch or wizard.

Adessa let her eyes sweep the room again, this time taking note of the expressions upon her companions' faces. Some bore looks of boredom, some irritation, these emotions being the most present in those of higher station such as herself.

"As you should all know by now, we do this every year," began Emily, "And when I say "this", I'm talking about the assignment of your legends, the people who you will become for this year, and what your goals will be – ultimately your mission. But this year is going to be different." There was the sound of many scraping chairs as most of the room's occupants scooted forward in their seats.

"This year, as one among has so…eloquently phrased," Emily gave Adessa a pointed look, "will be a memorable time for us all. Now, as we have not done in previous years, we will be actively pursuing our goal, which I'm actually going to tell you this time. Shortly, my signature will be appearing on your laps. If you can't figure it out, you should probably ask yourself why you're here – and it's not just because I say so. You will read through your legends, learn them, live them, breathe them, but don't you ever _be _them. Remember what you're here to do, don't delude yourselves that you're someone you're not." Emily suddenly stood up, letting her eyes sweep the entire room before simply walking out, her long silver robes billowing in her wake. She waved a hand and the heavy oak doors burst open, and as she walked through, the swung shut with such force that the sound rang in the ears of them all, filling the room with its deep sound.

"Well, wasn't that interesting?" Blaise commented dryly from his lounging position in his chair. The blonde boy who sat next to him swatted him over the head.

"What was that for?" cried Blaise, turning to face his friend.

"For the first time we're actually going to do something. _Of course_ that's interesting. Especially with whatever's going to happen this year – things are going to get _too_ interesting," the boy commented, and since he was actually completely right, Blaise hesitated before responding.

"Anything you say, Draco, anything you say," he muttered, shaking his head. Draco gave a rather ungentlemanlike snort.

"You're damn well right it's anything I say – I'm already two bloody seats ahead of you."

Before Blaise had a chance to respond, a chorus of _pop_s sounded through the room, as a single white camellia – Emily's favourite flower and the one she manages to use for just about everything – appeared on the laps of the society's members.

The weaker members of the society were nervous, for they knew it was task. The ones sitting at the front end of the chamber however, were little bothered by it. As the others began casting numerous spells and hexes to down their flowers defences, they tried mostly to hide grins or stop snickers from escaping. Adessa knew that Emily would have warded her flower with extreme care, and so it wasn't wise to send all her energy flying into it at once. Instead she opted for a more basic approach – commanding the spells placed upon it to back down. This was a trick she'd learned in her earlier years – when she had been about five – and could be used uniquely by pure-bloods, as the beings that held the spells together didn't exactly recognise the magic emitted by half-bloods or muggleborns. It required an immense amount of power and knowledge, but Adessa easily managed it. To perform the act, she only needed to send out her orders telepathically. The flower transformed into a stack of papers, that she saw had been spelled to show their contents only to her alone.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the boy next to her, Damien, a sixteen-year-old who she knew to have such power he was sometimes terrifying to look at, exerting a crushing amount of energy through his fingertip to the flower. He looked so concentrated, and that was probably why he hadn't noticed that the charms on his flower had been specially designed to reflect that and that his flower was beginning to wilt. Adessa turned her head towards him slightly, and coughed lightly. It easily shattered his concentration, his magic coming and snapping back at him like a whip, causing a pain only he could see. Luckily, he noticed the dying flower, and quickly cast a rejuvenating charm on it – the loss of the flower would mean the loss of the documents – and thus Emily's wrath. After another moment, he had obtained the documents.

He turned his head slightly toward Adessa, muttering a "thank you". Adessa was surprised when she saw a slight blush beginning to form on his cheeks. As pure-bloods, most parents taught their children to never show emotion, "emotion is weakness" was a favourite lesson in most households. She was slightly shocked that someone such as Damien Benois would let his guard down – especially in the Council Chamber, where even the slightest mistake was punished mercilessly. Not by Emily, of course, but the forces that ultimately governed the society were very strong and easily offended.

Looking around the room, she saw that most on her side of the room had gotten to their set of files. Most of the lower-ranking kids were still struggling, but there were maybe two or three who were almost there. Adessa knew that the wards placed on their flowers were excruciatingly simple for her, but they would still be difficult for an average adult wizard to crack.

"These are longer than usual," said Draco, examining his hefty stack of papers. Adessa saw Pansy Parkinson rolling her eyes on the other side of the room.

"Of course they're _longer_ – what do you think the speech was about?"

"She didn't say anything about the length of our legends," Draco retorted, crossing his arms and glancing down at his documents, which were resembling more and more to the manuscript of a lengthy novel. Pansy made a face at him, before starting to leaf through her documents as the only one of the lower-ranked members to have gotten to their papers. Adessa decided to say something as she was beginning to get bored.

"Yours are longer than most people's here. I bet it's because you know Harry Potter personally. I have a feeling that this year will be pretty big for things like that."

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "You have a "feeling", or you've just announced to pretty much every pure-blood house in existence that will witness probably one of the most important turning points in human history?"

Adessa made a face, smoothing out the stack of papers in her lap. "That's one way of interpreting it – you know I can't say anything." Blaise shrugged and began to read what he had been given.

Seeing as how most of the people that had gotten through the enchantments had begun to read, including the ones at the far end of the room near the doors, Adessa turned to her own files. They were slightly different in appearance than the year before. For one, it was arranged with more detail and continuity than it had been in previous years, but Adessa figured Emily just didn't want to take any chances – even if it meant spending hours, maybe even day preparing one of these.

As before, Adessa was still living with her parents, she would receive instructions more on what things she should experiment with, how to keep her powers in check, and a few (or maybe many) people she should keep an eye on. On occasion, she would get mission folders sending her off for something special, lasting no more than a few weeks. Now that she would be at Hogwarts, she would now have to actively play a role in the achieving of the mission, instead of her usual (and essential) supporting from the sidelines. One thing that she found was stressed throughout the first couple pages that she read was that she must always remember that she is only eleven years old, and most girls her age haven't invented spells that would make the author of _Magicke Moste Evile _faint, most girls her age aren't fluent in nineteen languages or practised in wandless, wordless magic, and most girls her age certainly haven't killed anyone. When one is asked to join the Altus Liberi Fortuna Society, they are asked if they are willing to forsake whatever shred of innocence they've managed to hold onto for the sake of the society.

Adessa shook that memory away, returning to her text. Her aim would be to get sorted into Slytherin House, which would give her an explanation for the attitude she would have towards the Golden Trio, as many referred to them, which would be cold, distant, and spiteful – all in all, very Slytherin-like. Draco, Blaise and Pansy had all received similar assignments in that regard and it followed the rules of one of the most basic lessons Emily had taught them – breathe down someone's neck and they're bound to notice, observe from afar, and if you're good enough, they _never _will.

From her reading, she gathered that if she showed extreme intelligence (about 50% of your capabilities, Emily had written in) she would be moved up first to second year, than to fourth, where she could be in the same class as the Trio, and could observe them more safely. She also noticed that, starting in October, the school would be hosting students from an international exchange program. They would be receiving students from places such as Russia, France, and both Americas. Smiling wryly to herself, Adessa wondered how Emily had managed to organise this and present it to the school boards. The papers she had been given included a list of the students participating in the exchange program. Hogwarts would be sending out a few unimportant Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, maybe an odd Gryff or two, but what really interested her were the people coming in – and almost half of them were sitting in the room she was now in.

The girl sitting to her right, Lavinia, would be coming from a school in Brazil, the others, being Jacqueline, Carter, Connor, Penny, Nick, Lynn and Stephan. As all of them were in the lower half of the ALFS, Adessa guessed that she would have to remind them constantly not to inform _anyone_ that the members of the society that already went to Hogwarts – which would be Draco, Blaise, Luna, Pansy, and Ginny – belonged to an ultra-secret secret society and were amazingly talented in magic, or even worse, that they were on _good terms _with each other.

Satisfied that the rest could be safely read at home, Adessa hopped off her chair, and waltzed out of the room. After all – it was already well after her ten o' clock bedtime.

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REVIEWS PLEASE!!!!! Sorry if it's a bit confusing...I tried to explain as much as possible without interrupting the flow of it...  
Adessa goes to Hogwarts tomorrow, YAY!!! Next chappie will probably be in diary format.


	5. Diary: Thoughts on Hogwarts

Sorry it took so long to update!! I've been really busy... Reviews are appreciated.

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September 1st, 1994

Dear mindless Diary,

Today I was awoken at an absolutely dreadfully early hour (and I believe it to be so as the sun was far from rising) by Minsy, in order to prepare myself for my going to Hogwarts. I must say, this did nothing to improve my opinion of the place. Training and various missions with the ALFS has given me the ability to survive – and stay focused – on an absurdly low amount of sleep. I can also wake from a dead sleep to assume duelling position in less than three seconds. Still, that doesn't mean I like it.

As Minsy had already packed every article of clothing my parents saw fit for me to take to Hogwarts with me, there should have been little for me to do except pack my supplies for school. Much to my dismay, Minsy has already done it, meaning I will soon have to go down to breakfast and tell my parents how _"excited" _and _"happy"_ I was that I'm going to Hogwarts, even though I have been dreading it all summer. Of course, I won't ever tell them what I really thought of it, just as I won't ever tell them about how I belonged to a believed-to-be-non-existent society.

As only my clothing and school supplies had been packed by Minsy, I have only now just finished packing the more personal articles I want to bring with me. They include, but are not limited to:

A compilation of twelve of my favourite books, informational and otherwise, the diamond necklace I received for my tenth birthday, on the off chance I should need it, my mission folder – the charms of which I have reinforced so there is next to no chance of its discovery – two quills and two rolls of parchment spelled to be able to communicate with each other, my spare wand, which I shall use in place of my regular one so as not to cause a disaster, a small vial of Felix Felicis, though I am far from dependant on it, and a black opal ring that Emily uses to communicate with all the members of the society.

I put all of these items as well as others inside a small handbag of mine that can hold a pretty much indefinite amount of things. I've also charmed the bag to stay completely invisible to everyone but me and to be virtually untraceable by all magic save my own. I know that some of the things I have put in there aren't necessarily objects that I absolutely need to keep secret, but some of them _are_, and _all _of them would bring about questions.

Don't get me wrong, Hogwarts is a good, solid school for regular children with the possession of magic, but the style of teaching there is, in my opinion, lax, coddling, and unrealistic. Sure, it's entertaining to learn little parlour tricks now and then for personal amusement, but it is also necessary for one to learn _useful _skills, that can, and will be applied to real-life situations. It's not like you'll never be in a situation where you'll have to do some fast wand-work – trouble always follows people who are special.

In truth, the level of my magical talent and intelligence that has been seen by my parents is already enough for them to be able to keep me out of that school. Still, they insist I go to that school as at least one family member of each generation has done so. If only Mother and Father hadn't decided to send Brody to Durmstrang… I'm getting off subject, so why don't we just start on something else, 'kay?

I'm in my room right now, wearing my purple dress (it goes down to just above my knees, which Mother disapproves of greatly) because I always try to convey some sort of statement with my clothes – this one being directed at my parents, saying that no, YOU DO NOT OWN ME, and that no, I do _not _want to go to Hogwarts. Naturally, Mother and Father have not picked up on either of these messages.

I know that Mother will be happy that I am taking the time to write in this diary, as it is something that she has given me, but I still believe it to be a pointless waste of time, which is precisely the reason I am writing in this diary now – to waste time.

The strands of hair that are hanging by my face are awfully distracting, as whenever I move, they seem to dangle just where they block my vision, or land on my mouth or even just swing around and annoy me further. No matter how much I try to put it up, there's always a little bit that sticks out. It's always an option to charm it, but that makes it look to put together, as if I spent hours on it, and that's not what I want people to think of me, as it than takes so much longer to prove them wrong.

Another word about my hair – as there is nothing else of greater importance to discuss – is that it is the most infuriating thing known to all humans. I can make it pretty, sure, and I have a lot of clothes that match, but it's still everywhere, all the time. I try to charm it to lie flat from its usual wavy self (and my hair isn't curly, but it has incredible waves that I'm sure I obtained from Mother) but by now I've decided that someone – and probably Mother – has spelled my hair not to react to spells by me.

As for the colour, I wouldn't change a thing. It's a dark chocolate brown, a mix between my parents, I presume. Mother's and Father's friends are always complimenting me on my hair, and that makes me feel a little bit proud of it, but in the wrong lighting, it can make me look like a ghost. I have Father's skin, see, and against the darkness of my hair, I look quite pale. Since I consider myself above casting glamours of the sort upon myself, I just have to deal with my skin tone.

Since absolutely nothing has happened today, there is very little I can write at the moment. In fact, so little has happened that Minsy is the only other being I have spoken to all morning. I'm guessing Mother will come fetch me soon for breakfast, as I am quite late, and Minsy is already rather busy dusting all the stair railings in the house.

As my presence is obviously not feeling missed in our dining hall at the moment, I shall continue my tirade on Hogwarts. Though Mother says it is unladylike to rant, I am permitted to do so when there is no company around.

Continuing. The staff at Hogwarts are not only sub-standard to the level of teaching I _want _but the manner in which they instruct their pupils is appalling to me. How do you expect someone to learn if they can just try it again with no consequences? When in training for the ALFS – which members always are, as it won't do you any good to fall behind – mistakes are rewarded with various jinxes being thrown at you, perhaps a punch or a kick, depending on the company.

I also disapprove of the sorting procedure. Now, I hear that the sorting hat is rambling on about how the houses should work together, but does little to warn them of the dangers that would come about if they didn't. House unity is important, in my opinion, but it is hard to promote among such hard-headed students. I understand the whole splitting up based on character traits and such, as it increases the likelihood that housemates will be there for each other, but the stereotypes applied to each house make me want to scream. Just because many dark wizards were in Slytherin, it doesn't mean that they all are – there was actually even a Slytherin who went on to cure seven deadly magical child-hood diseases. Gryffindors are said to be noble and brave, but more common characteristics are impulsiveness and the inability to make hard decisions.

In my opinion, it's a bad idea to force a bunch of people together who are similar in most aspects of themselves, and it's even worse to tell them that they are. What I have noticed is that the students of separate houses feel uncomfortable with each other, as they are not of the same house, and thus not completely "compatible". They'll seek comfort within their own house, where they are sure to find it, rather than let it come to them. It makes you learn bad habits if the easy way out always stays in the same place.

I also find that the attitude of the students and teachers there is laughable. Who in their right mind would openly call a forest "the Forbidden Forest" and expect that children wouldn't want to go there? And Defence Against The Dark Arts? Please – that curriculum would protect you from a pygmy puff, but not much else. The restricted section too! There are books in there that I would read when I was six! My library now is far more advanced now, thanks to Father. The darkest book they have in Hogwarts' restricted section is Magicke Moste Evile, and even that has been considered by Father too juvenile for me to read anymore. In its stead, I have been moved onto Spells of the Darkest Age. It goes into far more detail, with more informative content, rather than warnings. This book explains in detail how to make a Horcrux (something I find rather unnecessary, as you wouldn't need it if you were a good enough duellist) as well as such things as turning someone else's body inside out with magic in a way where they will not die until long afterwards. Why, I wonder, would anyone want to do this, because if you're aiming to kill someone, why would you leave them alive? Voldemort has invented quite the useful spell for killing things, so why not spare yourself the trouble?

Another thing at Hogwarts is that they never say Voldemort's name. Though it is true that names have power, isn't it the point that people are trying to get over it? Why keep drudging up all the fears of the past, when you could strive to be stronger and be fearless? Humans are strange creatures indeed. Though in general, I choose to believe that these things don't apply to me.

Everyone seems to think that Hogwarts is such an advanced and prestigious school of magic, even though it's still, in reality, quite mundane. I have heard of some small schools in locations which I shan't bother to disclose at present, where the students are taught quite well, though still not up to my standards. These schools are so extraordinary that few know of their existence. I wish my parents would send me to one of them instead.

The only good things that I suppose could _possibly_ come out of going to Hogwarts would be that firstly, it would be incredibly easier to accomplish my mission (which is of ultimate importance to life as we know) and secondly, I may find it interesting to see how my fellow members of the ALFS act out their roles at the school, as well as how I myself will do so.

I'm only now realising that I will not be able to actually socialise with Draco, Blaise or Pansy at the start of the year, even though I am also likely to be placed in the same house as them. From what I have heard, they have built up a sort of reputation, and ruining it could draw us down a path away from our goals. As the possibility of my being in Slytherin is sitting at around 99%, I cannot speak to Ginny either, seeing as how she is already a Gryffindor, older than me, and supposed to be from a "poor", "unimportant" family. Very few – and I mean very, very, _very_ few – know that she was chosen by her grandparents (Lord Isaac Prewitt and Lady Heather Prewitt) to be their official heir, as they disapproved greatly of Molly's elopement with the Weasley. This means that when they die, she will get their land, money, and title as Lady Prewitt. Her grandmother gave her something of a traditional pure-blood education, so she should be fine when she comes into it.

Anyways, it's just eight o' clock now, and so that means that I've already missed breakfast. I deem this to be a very bad thing, as I am now started to get extremely hungry. I always have the worst luck, don't I?

Of course, right on time, I'm hearing pounding coming from my door. That's actually quite strange, as Mother is normally very composed and would never dream of banging her fists so rudely against anyone's door. I suppose it could be Father, but it is more likely of him to blow the door apart. As it is now apparent that I have a guest, I must now conclude.

Adessa Pearce

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Like it? Don't? Feel free to tell me!! Hit the review button... it doesn't have to be long or interesting...  
next chapter will not be in diary format, and expect diary entries to be rare in the future.  
Adessa's arriving at Hogwarts in the next couple chapters! YAY!!!!


	6. Invitation to Breakfast

Adessa reluctantly dragged herself off her bed when she could no longer stand the pounding. She was halfway to the door when she suddenly turned on her heel, heading back to her bed to put away her diary; it would be trouble if anyone found it.

Once Adessa was in front of the door, she proceeded to wordlessly remove the many charms she had placed on it. She frowned slightly doing this, wondering why whoever was there was knocking so loudly.

"Come on, Dess, let us in already!" the person on the other side of the door called out, obviously frustrated. Adessa allowed herself a small grin.

Pulling on the genuine crystal doorknob, she swung open the door, still grinning. The faces of Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson stared back at her, the first, fist still poised to knock. He quickly lowered it, scowling slightly.

"Took you long enough." Pansy giggled beside him. Draco shot her a look. Adessa leaned back against the door frame, crossing her arms.

"Well obviously I'm not going to open the door to just anyone, and besides – who in these times doesn't put wards on their doors?" she asked cocking her head slightly, mocking them almost.

"Eleven-year-old girls," said Draco wryly. Adessa sighed – he did have a point. Blaise chose that moment to step in, clearing his throat in that overly-charming, overly-confident way that only he can seem to manage.

"Don't mind him, love. Lucius is just in a bad mood, is all, and cold, cynical, disdainfulness is contagious, you know." Draco glared at him, obviously unhappy with his friend's statement.

"You're weird."

Pansy giggled again. She stepped forward, shoving Blaise out of the way, who put on a mock-hurt face. She rolled her eyes at him, while Adessa stifled giggles. Clasping her hands in front of her Pansy began to speak in a well-rehearsed manner that only one trained to notice such things could tell was planned.

"We have decided – and when I saw "we" I mean Blaise, so if you want to kill one of us for this, don't look at me – that as this is the day you will be starting Hogwarts and since you obviously don't want to, we thought we'd at least do you a favour, and take you out for breakfast!"

Adessa stared at them, face emotionless, before declaring in a clear voice,

"Get out of my house." And shut the door in their faces.

Before she had a chance to replace the wards, the door was blown open, making a loud crash. Draco tucked his wand back inside his pocket, and then dusted himself off.

"Pansy's already made reservations at the most expensive place in Diagon Alley, and she found a way to put it under Malfoy – you know those places charge for reservations, so we are _going_. Your house elves already know to send your stuff straight onto the train"

Adessa rolled her eyes at him, the sign that she was giving in.

"Just give me a second, 'kay?" Draco nodded, backing off slightly.

As she re-entered her room, Adessa pulled her diary out of its hiding spot, before tucking it into her charmed handbag, the invisibility charm of which she removed. Stopping at her mirror, Adessa frowned while tucking wayward strands of her dark brown hair back into their proper places – she could never get her hair to behave.

From the doorway, Pansy sighed as Adessa slipped on a pair of silver flats. The eleven-year-old was _breathtaking _in every way. Her hair was a rich, thick and wavy dark brown that was so glossy, you'd think it wasn't real, or professionally spelled at the very least. She was very pale, but her complexion was still flawless, and it accented her delicate, aristocratic features. She was slender and just slightly tall for her age, and moved with a cat-like grace that was almost eerie.

Once she had gathered all her things inside her purse, Adessa turned and smiled at her friends, signalling that she was ready to go. Pansy sighed again, earning a strange look from Blaise. By far, the girl's best physical feature was her eyes. They were large, round, and framed by long lashes, dark and thick. But most amazing was their colour, as shockingly clear a blue as lapis lazuli, flecked with glints of greens akin to Tsavorite garnets. Everything about her seemed to radiate power and beauty.

"I'm ready," Adessa said, shifting from foot to foot, "let's go."

The walk down to the foyer was a long one, which called up the need for conversation. Unfortunately, there wasn't much the four had in common that could be openly shared. Mostly they walked along through the long corridors that made up the floors of Pearce Castle.

Growing uncomfortable with the fact that the clacking her two-inch heels were making on the polished floors was the only sound to be heard, Pansy half-heartedly started up a conversation.

"I really do hope you enjoy Hogwarts, maybe make a friend or two. I know it seems sort of stupid, really, for people like us, but it's an experience, you know, kind of exhilarating, almost. Besides – there are some pretty interesting people with connections to there." Pansy trailed off, obviously hoping someone else would carry on with the topic.

"I'd rather have gone to Russia." Draco rolled his eyes, walking slightly ahead, away from the discussion.

What Adessa was talking about were the members of the society who had been assigned to a confidential mission in Russia, under the pretence that they would be attending Durmstrang. In reality, they would be searching for the artefact that was crucial to the success of the mission, as well as the society's ultimate goal since the 1930's.

Adessa had wanted to go with them, even though Durmstrang wasn't something her parents though "proper" for her. Damien and Aaron were the two highest ranking members of the ALFS, with the exception of Adessa and one other. They would be going on the mission to Russia, the first leg of which was supposed to take three months, before they would return to report. They would then go back to Russia, and were supposed to be back by June. It was still unclear to everyone whether or not Tairn, whom everyone called "Hex" would be accompanying them. Hex was lower in authority than only Adessa and Emily in terms of the society, meaning he was one of the most powerful wizards on the face of the earth. Emily had originally considered sending her with them, but there would have been hell to pay if she saw Brody.

She had known Hex since she had joined the society, about as long as she had known pretty much everyone in the ALFS, but they had always had a special bond. When Adessa had been six years old, Emily had assigned her and Hex a mission that could make or break things for them. Adessa had made one mistake that put her life in jeopardy. Hex had come to her rescue, single-handedly botching the entire mission. Emily and the rest of the society had never quite forgiven him for screwing things up for them, and Adessa had never quite forgiven him for saving her life.

"You're castle is far too large," commented Blaise once they had finally reached the front door, "One would wonder how you use all this space."

Adessa stopped walking, turning to face him and commanding her face to stay solemn as she spoke.

"We don't _use _all of it; it's more to make ourselves seem wealthy and intimidating."

"Well, you manage very well with that, don't you? Now come on – the reservations are for nine, and it's already eight-thirty." Called Draco, waiting impatiently at the door, and it didn't take a genius to see that he was impatient, as he was tapping his foot nervously on the floor with his arms crossed looking irritated. Hardly good form for a pure-blood, thought Adessa, observing him casually.

Blaise grinned cheekily. "Don't get me wrong here, but it looks like you actually _want_ to go to breakfast." Draco furrowed his brow.

"I don't _want _to go; I just don't want –"

"Do I hear voices, Adessa? We have guests and you didn't tell me?"

The four flinched at the sound of Lady Breonna's voice. Pansy, Blaise and Adessa understood Draco's burning desire to leave. Now that the mistress of the house had found them, she would insist on hosting them properly, which would force them to apply proper pure-blood manners.

"Yes, Mother," called Adessa, trying to keep frustration out of her voice, "I was invited to breakfast."

Lady Breonna appeared from around a corner. She was a vision – as always – in a simple set of forest green robes that one with a keen eye could tell were outrageously expensive. Blaise's mouth dropped open, and Adessa tried to elbow him without her mother seeing. Blaise closed his mouth sending a sheepish grin over to Adessa.

"Good morning, Lady Breonna. How are you today?" he asked, flashing a smile at the woman.

"I am well. Thank you, dear. Wouldn't you rather take you meal here though? Please do, it would mean so much to me." Said Lady Breonna, her eyes darting between the four of them.

"I apologise most sincerely, Lady Breonna," cut in Draco, "I am afraid we have already arranged for some friends of ours to meet us in Diagon Alley, and it would be terribly rude if we didn't show up…"

"Of course, you must do what you must. Run along now, and Adessa, dear, do be careful." With that Breonna drifted off around the corner. Free at last, the four rushed out the doors to be confronted with the still-warm September air.

"Hey, Dess?" Blaise asked, trotting down the front steps.

Adessa turned to look at him. "Yeah?" Blaise smirked goofily at her, before leaning in to whisper in her ear.

"I think your mum's hot."

Adessa shrieked, jumping away from Blaise. She _so _did not need to hear that. Laughing, Blaise sprinted away, Adessa in hot pursuit. Pansy was doubled over with laughter, and Draco even smiled a bit.

"Didn't she get "most gorgeous witch alive" in last February's edition of Witch Weekly?" commented Pansy, just loud enough for Adessa – who was still chasing Blaise – to hear. Adessa abruptly stopped chasing Blaise, who turned his head to see what was going on and promptly tripped over his own feet. This got a chuckle from Draco.

"And she's not even thirty yet, is that right?" said Draco, joining in, "that's still quite young, isn't it?"

"Enough!" cried Adessa, covering her ears, "I _really _don't need to hear it." Pansy smiled, showing off her pearly white teeth.

"Alright, Dess," she sighed, before turning to look at Blaise who was picking himself up off the ground, "But what about me, Blaise? Do you find me attractive?" Pansy spoke in the same simpering tone she used at school that was completely unlike her personality. Blaise grinned, draping his arm across her shoulders.

"Aw, come on Pans, you're like a sister to me." He said jokingly. Pansy smiled, satisfied.

Anyone with eyes could see that the fourteen-year-old girl was gorgeous. She had shoulder-length black hair that framed her face perfectly and drew attention to her mossy green eyes. She had a figure that most girls at Hogwarts would kill for, as well as holding an air of confidence that turned heads wherever she went. In fact, the year before, she'd been placed number two on "Hogwarts' Sexiest Witches", 1st place going to a seventh year girl rumoured to be of Veela descent. Pansy had set a record as the youngest girl to ever crack the top ten. Still, the older girl had a feeling that Adessa would take on that title. Not that she was jealous – not at all – in fact, she was actually almost proud, in a way. Pansy had first met Adessa when the younger girl had been seven, and she herself had been ten. From then, she had watched Adessa grow, in terms of her personality, her physical appearance and also her magic and views on life. No matter how hard she tried, Pansy could help but feel that every time she looked at Adessa, she was witnessing something great.

Realising that she was staring at Adessa, Pansy jerked herself back to reality. "Let's apparate, alright? It's almost nine, and at _The Golden Unicorn_ they don't hold tables longer than five minutes." Adessa whistled; _The Golden Unicorn _was one of the priciest restaurants in London – not that they couldn't afford it – and most thought it impossible to get reservations there. The truth was, the restaurant had a policy of a seventy-five galleon payment for reservations.

"You do realise that it's illegal for us to apparate, Pans." said Blaise, raising an eyebrow. Pansy shot him an irritated look.

"This is _Pearce _land. Do you _honestly _think that the Ministry tracks what goes on here?" Blaise sighed, throwing his hands up in surrender. Adessa twirled her hair between her fingers.

"You first, Draco."

"Why is it always me?"

"Because I say so."


	7. Beginning of the Train Ride

Sorry I haven't updated in a while, I've been busy. Please Review though! No matter what length or the content, just review!

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If anyone noticed four underage witches and wizards' apparating into Diagon Alley, they certainly didn't show it. Perhaps they didn't care, or perhaps it was who they _were_. The foursome made their way to the richer end of the street, and finally arrived at the door of a yellow-bricked building, covered in ivy. A sign above the awning displayed in golden cursive, _The Golden Unicorn_, with a small image next to it, charmed to rear and whinny every minute or so.

They stepped inside, and were welcomed with a burst of warm air and the smell of food. "I," began Adessa, as if making a formal announcement, "Am _very_ hungry." Pansy giggled at this, before taking Adessa's arm and guiding her over to where Draco and Blaise were taking seats. Pansy flipped a galleon to the Hostess, who was looking quite hurt at not being approached, even though the four were regular enough to have a table set aside for them on every visit.

"You should hurry up and order," said Blaise as the girls began sitting down, "We don't have an awful lot of time until we have to go." Adessa scowled.

"Don't rush me."

Blaise threw up in his hands in mock surrender, grinning all the while. "Whatever you say, Dess, whatever you say." Draco raised a hand slightly, and it was just above his shoulder when a waitress materialised beside their table.

"May I take your orders?" she said, in an overly-bubbly tone. She was eyeing Draco flirtatiously, even though he was obviously uncomfortable with the attention and was in the process of sinking low into his seat.

"The house omelette, please," said Blaise uninterestedly, brushing imaginary dirt of his expensive robes. "And grapefruit juice, too."

Pansy ordered pancakes and Adessa chose a fruit salad, whereas Draco proclaimed he was feeling ill to his stomach and didn't want to chance it for the train. Adessa suspected that that had something to do with how the waitress – who was at least a decade older than him – was making very obvious passes at him. Despite his reputation at Hogwarts as being something of a sex god, he was possibly the shyest person Adessa knew when it came to girls. In fact, the only females she had ever seen him talk to without stumbling over his words or insulting, were ALFS.

"Embarrassed, are we?" giggled Pansy, once the food arrived, and Draco tried desperately to make himself appear non-existent. The blonde just glared in response. Blaise leaned over the table to give Pansy a gentle smack upside the head.

"Don't tease, love – I'm not sure poor Draco here can take its" He said, a satisfied smirk on his face. Draco scowled, before taking his glass of water and dumping the contents on Blaise's head.

"Oi! What was that for?" yelped Blaise, jumping to his feet as ice cubes slid down his shirt. Draco just shrugged his shoulders before helping himself to one of Adessa's strawberries.

"I was going to eat that, you know," she pointed out, though she didn't really care.

"I know."

Blaise glared at them both as he witnessed the exchange. "Bloody hell, Draco! Now I'm going to be wet for the train ride!" Pansy rolled her eyes, and set her fork down delicately. She met his gaze with steely eyes.

"You're a wizard. You have a wand. You can do magic. Use it."

Blaise sniffed haughtily, before sitting down and swishing his wand. His shirt instantly dried itself. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"We're underage in a public area, you know." It was true, too. If anyone saw him doing magic, it would put them in a spot of trouble. Nothing they couldn't get themselves out of with a few galleons, but trouble nonetheless. Blaise shrugged, stabbing his omelette viciously with his fork. Pansy observed his actions with a quirked eyebrow.

"That was once a baby chick, you know."

"Shut up, Pansy."

"No need to get touchy about it."

"Shut up, Pansy."

"Alright, then."

"Shut up, Pansy."

Adessa leaned back in her seat, wondering how long it would take them to stop. Even with the whole "we're super-powerful" thing, they all – Pansy and Blaise especially – acted like kids a lot of the time. It couldn't hurt, she guessed, but sometimes it just got so…tiresome. Noticing how bored Adessa was getting, Draco decided to cut in.

"We have eleven minutes before the train leaves."

The four were up and heading out the door in a matter of seconds. As Draco was exciting, the waitress called out to him.

"Sir! You haven't paid for your meals!" Draco looked back, at her, still running, and narrowly missed walking into the doorframe.

"Put it on my tab!"

Before the waitress could remind him that _The Golden Unicorn _didn't keep tabs and that not paying for your meal was against the law, they had already apparated to just in front of King's Cross Station. Luckily, they hadn't been seen by any muggles. Even if they had, no one would mess with _their_ families.

They entered the station, which was bustling with muggles, and walked casually over to the barrier. Without stopping their conversation, the four all walked into the barrier and continued talking on the other side as if nothing had happened. Adessa was internally grateful that their stuff was already on the train, as it would have been so much more difficult to be dragging a trunk around.

"We should get on the train," pointed out Draco, gesturing to the clock, which read…ten fifty-five. Pansy, Blaise and Adessa all freaked out at the same time.

"Shit!" They chorused, before running hell-bent for the train. Draco sighed, figuring he'd better follow them. When he caught up, they had already boarded the train and were searching for a compartment.

"Dess?" said Pansy trying to get the younger girl's attention. Adessa turned to look at her.

"Yeah, what is it?"

Pansy grabbed the girl's arm to stop her knocking on the door of a compartment. "Draco, Blaise and I are going to find a compartment to ourselves. You look for Ginny and Luna's compartment. It would be a good way to alert the Trio to your existence." Adessa nodded, and began idly peeking inside every compartment in the car. When she found it, she gave the other three a thumbs-up before slipping inside.

"What was that about, Pans?" asked Blaise, slipping an arm around the dark-haired girl's waist. Pansy raised an eyebrow.

"It was exactly as I said, Blaise. To the Trio, she's just going to be another little Slytherin first year – until she gets moved up, that is. We need something that link her to the Trio, otherwise, we'll get nowhere with her." Draco yawned, bored.

"Was that in your file?" he asked, although he didn't really seem interested. Pansy shook her head. "Well, good thinking. I think we should go find someplace to sit."

"All the compartments are probably taken," pointed out Blaise. Pansy elbowed him, rolling her eyes.

"That's not very helpful, Blaise," she said, "Besides – we'll just kick some first years out of one. We always do, right?" Draco nodded, and set off down the train.

It wasn't long before a couple terrified eleven-year-olds were running away from their compartment. The three sat down and prepared for a long train ride. "You think the Trio's found a compartment yet?" asked Blaise, picking at his nails. Draco gave him a look.

"Sometimes you can be such a girl," said Draco, and Pansy cuffed him jokingly on the head. "They probably have a compartment already. There's no way Granger would let them be late."

Pansy smacked him hurriedly, although it didn't hurt. Draco was lucky she hadn't aimed to hurt him, as years with the ALFS had made them all quite strong physically. "You need to get used to calling her 'mudblood' again. I know you hate it, but they'll suspect something's up if you suddenly get respectful over the summer."

Draco bit his lip and nodded. He didn't think that blood status was a reason to insult someone, or segregate them in any way. Though it was true that the ALFS only accepted pure-bloods, which was only because they had powers half-bloods and muggleborns didn't have. If they found a muggleborn with that same power and talent, they would readily accept them.

"Well," said Blaise, breaking the silence that had come after Pansy's comment, "I'm going to try to get some shut-eye – I spent all night yesterday reviewing my file." With that, he lay down on the bench and promptly went to sleep.

"Thank Merlin he doesn't snore, right?" giggled Pansy, at the sight of Blaise's sleeping form. Draco nodded, grinning slightly. It was nice to act normal once in a while. Too bad it wouldn't last. Their was almost total silence in the compartment for a while, as the gravity of their situation slowly overcame them.

"Draco?" That was Pansy, looking up from her position in the blonde boy's lap.

"Hmm?"

"Are we going to die this year?"

Pansy's question got no response. In fact, nothing happened for a long time – not until salty tears made their way down Pansy's delicate face. Draco brought a hand to caress the face of the girl he considered his sister.

"We might," he whispered, mournfully almost, "But at least we'll be there for each other until the end."

"What if we aren't?"

Pansy and Draco whipped their heads around to face the speaker. They hadn't known Blaise was awake. The black boy was sitting upright and gazing at them with his bright green eyes, his face the picture of seriousness, unlike his former joviality. "What if we aren't?" he repeated, this time sounding like a lost child, which, in a way, they were.

Pansy hugged herself close to Draco's chest, unable to respond. It was a question they all asked themselves, but Emily had forbid it being used in the Chamber. It brought up to many memories – of failures, and of losses. Draco brought an arm up to pull her even closer to him.

"Then nothing changes, does it?"

Blaise recoiled at Draco's words like he'd been struck by a whip, and Pansy gave an involuntary shiver even though Draco's body was warm. The words that had come from the blonde boy's mouth were harsh and cut like the razor-sharp edge of a shard of glass – and they were all too familiar.

Silence stretched once again through the compartment, the only sound that of the train chugging along. The next few minutes were passed that way, no one daring to say anything – no one wanting to. Pansy's eyes had long since dried, and Blaise was still sitting on his side of the compartment in watchful silence.

Suddenly, they shifted positions, Draco to sit beside Blaise, both adopting a casual stance, and Pansy to lie down on her bench and begin picking at her nails. Not a few seconds had passed when the compartment door swung open.

"You do realise," said Draco in a bored tone, his previous seriousness seemingly evaporated, "That this is _our_ compartment?" Harry Potter's face flushed angrily, and Hermione and Ron huffed from behind him.

"I know that, Malfoy," Harry sputtered, trying to regain his composure, "We were just looking for a compartment." Draco raised an eyebrow, as it was already more than halfway into the train ride. Pansy giggled at Hermione who was staring at Harry, in complete disbelief over her friend's stupidity.

"Are you going to, you know, leave already?" asked Blaise, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world that they should have already left. Pansy giggled again.

The Trio looked stunned for a moment, before going off down the train for another compartment. As soon as they left, the air in the compartment got tenser, somehow. It was silence again for another moment.

"They're so…innocent, aren't they?" said Pansy, her voice barely above a whisper. Draco closed his eyes and breathed heavily.

"They always are."


	8. Even More of the Train Ride

I know this chapter's kind of uninteresting, but review it anyway! Because I feel like it, I'm putting in a second disclaimer.

Disclaimer: I own very little - J.K. Rowling own all-things Harry Potter-related.

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Adessa peered through the frosted glass of the compartment door, able to make out only the silhouettes of two female figures. Thinking she would try her luck, Adessa tugged the compartment door open a fraction, and poked her head in.

"Hello, Gin, Luna. Mind if I sit here?"

The two girls looked up to see Adessa standing at the door of their compartment. Luna had her file open and was reviewing it, but had placed an almost blinding glamour on it that made it look like she was reading an edition of the Quibbler upside-down. Ginny waved her in, and Adessa gave a brief thumbs-up to Draco, Pansy and Blaise, before hopping onto the seat beside the auburn-haired girl.

"You know, Luna," Adessa started, slightly amused, "You did the glamour upside-down." Luna looked up, her big blue eyes twinkling. She set the Quibbler/top-secret files down on the seat beside her, smiling smugly.

"Oh, I've already thought of an explanation for that. Besides – I can only remember what the cover looks like upside-down. It also encourages people not to talk to me – you know how much I value my privacy."

Adessa grinned at her, showing shining white teeth. Luna was eccentric, that was for sure, but not nearly as much as people thought she was. It was a sort of game to her, get people to think all these weird things about her and then laugh about it later.

"So, Dess, have you talked to any of the others yet?" That was Ginny, who had abandoned trying to repair some sort of key she had been holding and had tucked it back into her pocket. Adessa nodded, stretching her arms out above her head. It was going to be a long train ride.

"Yeah – our favourite little Slythies. Haven't met up with the others yet, though I expect they'll find us soon enough, seeking advice from their superior operatives." Ginny raised an eyebrow.

"I'm trying to imagine Jacqueline asking _anyone_ for help. So far, it's just not happening." Adessa smirked. She didn't particularly like Jacqueline, and didn't normally have to deal with her as she lived in France and went to Beauxbatons – or _used_ to go to Beauxbatons. She was one of the ALFS coming to Hogwarts.

"Lavinia may need our company, though," said Luna in her dreamy way, "Imagine having to spend the train ride with all seven of the others – she won't be able to stand it." Adessa voiced her agreement. Lavinia was in between Draco and Blaise in terms of ranking among the ALFS, Draco being the higher, and Blaise the lower. The other seven who had exchanged to Hogwarts were incredibly juvenile and naïve by comparison.

Luna picked up her file and started reading again. There was a lot she needed to catch up on, as her father had dragged her down to Angola for the summer to hunt flibberwudgets, not that she had minded, as Angola had absolutely gorgeous landscapes in the places they had gone to. No flibberwudgets had been found, but Luna hadn't expected them to be, anyway. Although she tried not to indulge her father's crazy…whatever they were, it made him so happy whenever she sounded like she believed him. They had arrived back home late the night before – Luna, having slipped away for one night to go to the ALFS meeting, and had made sure to leave a strong projection of herself so that Xenophilius wouldn't suspect anything – and so Luna was still getting used to the time difference. She had survived in a war-zone doing reconnaissance for two weeks on less sleep than that, but then again, no one really needed to know that.

"Hold on, Luna," said Adessa as the blonde started to flip the page, "We're not supposed to go past 126 yet." Luna looked up, startled. There had been a footnote at the beginning of the thirty-second page saying not to turn to page 127 until they had arrived at Hogwarts. Given the odd placement of the notice, it was understandable that Luna had forgotten. Even so, she blushed a bright pink.

"Don't worry about it, Luna," said Ginny, in that cheerful yet somehow serious way she had, "I once read about a hundred pages in advance…the worst part of it was the yelling at I got from Emily afterwards." Luna quickly set the papers – still in the form of the Quibbler – down on the seat beside her, gazing at it almost fearfully.

"What happened on your mission, Gin?" asked Luna, still eyeing the papers as if they would jump out at her. Adessa saw Ginny wince almost imperceptibly. It was another moment before Ginny had recovered enough to formulate a response.

"I didn't meet someone. That's all."

Adessa hastily changed the subject, although the mistake was a common one. Everyone had done it at one point in their career, with a smattering of consequences but nothing serious. Still, it was embarrassing to talk about, and Ginny's ears were already tinged pink. "So Ginny," said Adessa, turning to the older girl, "I saw you at _La Balle de la Rue_. What was that all about?" The girl sighed.

"Grandmother wanted me to get a taste of what pure-blood society's like before she passes away. My grandmother on my mother's side is Lady Prewitt, remember? Sometimes I just forget they have so much influence."

Adessa nodded. According to Ginny, Lady Prewitt had been hounding her about becoming a proper lady and to maybe make her debut in the world of pure-blood socialites. Molly Weasley had, most obviously, refused. Anything, Ginny had said, that would keep her in the ALFS, was fine with her.

"Lovegood's not that important," said Luna, yawning into her hand, "So I went alone – didn't even tell Daddy since they wouldn't expect more than the required one." Adessa nodded. She hadn't seen Luna in the crowd, but compared to the looming figures of robe-clad adults, it would have been easy to miss a little blonde witch, who, come to think of it, had probably been standing in the back.

"How was your summer, Dess?" asked Ginny, bored with the topic and making no effort to hide it. Adessa groaned, leaning her head back to rest on the wall of the compartment, just above the top of the seat.

"It was achingly dreary. I think the most exciting thing I did all summer was find three new uses for dragon's blood." Ginny raised an eyebrow at this. Adessa's version of "dreary" was a lot different from the rest of the world's.

Luna sighed. "In my _entire life _I've only found two." Adessa giggled at this. It was amazing how quickly they all forgot that they were so…_special_. They were all constantly thinking up new spells and potions, among other things – and keeping it to themselves, of course – that other people could never even dream of.

"So," began Ginny in a casual tone, though she was anything but, "How do you think this year will pan out? More eventful than last year, I'm sure." Adessa snorted.

"Isn't it always?" Ginny was one of Adessa's favourite…people. There was just something about the auburn-haired girl's demeanour that she found so infinitely interesting. Even though they were all some of the strongest witches and wizards in the entire world, Adessa knew that Ginny was special.

"So how was your summer, Gin?" asked Adessa suddenly interested in the subject, though she previously hadn't been. Ginny looked at her like she'd gone crazy.

"How was it? How _was it_? I had to spend an entire two months with my oaf a brother and the rest of the Golden Trio cooped up in a dirty old house, unable to do anything or even _practice_ unless I was safely locked in my room after warding it to impenetrability, not to mention that I couldn't even get any decent potion ingredients because I can't have any somewhat healthy-looking owls flying into the house." Ginny leaned back in her seat with a huff, a Luna giggled lightly at the girl's outburst. Adessa placed a gentle hand on the red-head's shoulder.

"Was it really that bad?" she cooed patronizingly. Ginny gave her a glare that could stop a tsunami in its tracks. Adessa, being used to such things, merely flinched slightly. If there was anything she could accredit Ginny for, it was her temper.

Ginny shook the hand off. "It could have been worse," she mumbled, looking away, "Percy could have been there, too." Adessa giggled, pulling her knees up onto the seat and resting her head on them. Her eyes danced mischievously.

"I wish I could have as many siblings as you do, Gin," she said matter-of-factly. Before she knew it, Ginny had whipped her head around to face the younger girl, her deep chocolate eyes blazing.

"No you _don't_," hissed Ginny, suddenly like a spitting cat, "Do you have any idea what it's like to have so many people who love you that you have to keep lying to every single day of you life? Do you know how it feels to not be able to tell them what's bothering you, even when they're so concerned for you that they're almost crying?" Ginny turned around quickly to face the window. Although neither Adessa nor Luna could see her face, they were sure she wasn't crying. For some odd reason or another, Ginny never cried when she was truly upset, it was just a random thing with her.

The next few moments – and they were long moments, indeed – were passed in silence, an unspoken tension reigning thickly in the air. It was a hurt they all shared in some way or another, the hurt of having to keep such a large secret. The silence was shattered when the compartment door slid open.

"Hey Ginny, Luna. Mind if I sit with you?" All heads turned in the direction of Neville as he spoke. Adessa observed the other two girls immediately putting on their disguises, Luna taking a dreamier stance and Ginny plastering a cheerful smile on her face, so unlike the miserable expression she'd been wearing just seconds earlier.

"Of course, Neville," she said waving him in. He came inside the compartment and sat down beside Luna, who offered him an airy smile before picking up her files which were still spelled to look like the Quibbler.

"Oh, who's this?" asked Neville, noticing Adessa for the first time. Ginny looked up at him, slightly startled, before answering.

"This is Adessa. She's starting her first year, and she couldn't find a compartment so we're letting her sit with us." Adessa gave Neville a little wave, trying her best to like a nervous, incompetent first year. Luna looked up from the Quibbler/files – which she wasn't actually reading anymore – to speak to Neville.

"She has some rather interesting theories on flibberwudgets. In fact, there was one that I found exceptionally intriguing about how they may have a similar – "

"That's okay, Luna. You can leave that for some other time."

There wasn't much that went on for the next while, except for Neville making nervous conversation and the others answering in falsely cheerful tones. To anyone else – including Neville – their responses would have seemed sincere, but to each other – all of whom were practiced in the art of lies and their detection – it was almost painful to stay in such an uncomfortable setting. If Neville noticed anything wrong, though, he definitely didn't say anything.

Apparently, Neville had spent the summer cooped up inside with his grandmother, who was trying to teach him how to be better in potions – with less than positive results. To Adessa, it was inconceivable that anyone could be so – for lack of a better term – stupid. She had grown up being exceptionally talented in pretty much every way, and the whole concept of being awkward with _anything_ was fairly new to her. After listening to Neville ramble nervously on about how he broke out in boils after splashing himself with some Forgetfulness potion, Luna decided to jump in.

"I bet it wasn't the potion, Neville. I hear that happlegrunders will lay eggs in the skin of people who stand too close to an open window for extended periods of time. They look like boils, but they're really not." Adessa somehow managed to keep a straight face as Luna spoke in a perfectly even tone.

Adessa kept a straight face as Neville tried to stop himself from looking uncomfortable in the face of Luna's apparent eccentricity. Ginny, she saw, had a perfectly serious face on, in contrast to the happy smile she'd put on when Neville had entered the compartment. It was going to be an interesting – and long – train ride.

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Review please! I've been so depressed with the lack of anyone reviewing my fic...It's discouraging, to say the least.


	9. Before the Sorting

Sorry for the wait! I have another fanfic, **Nathalie of Everstone: Lady Page**, for all you who have read the Tamora Pierce books, and I've also been really busy with school, it being May, and all. Anyway, I don't own Harry Potter and stuff (JK does). Please review, because it gives me incentive and I'll update faster!

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The train screeched to a halt, jolting many out of their seats and causing some luggage from the racks above to fall upon the occupants of the compartments. In the compartment of the three ALFS members – and Neville – everything and everyone remained perfectly in place. This was due to the fact that Ginny, Luna and Adessa all had perfect balance and the foresight to charm the rack to the keep their belongings from falling, and Neville had slouched so far down into his seat with embarrassment that he was as unmovable as a mountain. Not that he looked like a mountain, of course. With his wide, nervous eyes hunched shoulders and mildly distressed expression, he looked rather small and pitiful.

Adessa didn't fault the boy.

Although he was ridiculously nervous for someone about to re-enter the same place he had spent the past three years of his life, Adessa supposed that maybe with the constant teasing and frequent explosions in potions – this she heard from Pansy, who always found the boy's antics downright hilarious – there was something for him to be nervous about. For her, though, there was little to fear.

Or was there?

As Ginny lifted the enchantments they had placed to keep their trunks immobile upon the rack, Adessa realized that although she had been on many a mission in which her lives and those of her friends as well as innocent people's hung in the balance, the concept of a new school was beginning to make her anxious. Not enough to bring sweat to her palms and a tremble to her hands, but enough that she was disappointed in herself. Luna had once commented on Adessa's bravery, and how it didn't resemble a Gryffindor's in the slightest. "A Gryffindor," the blonde had said, "Is _called_ brave, because they have the tendency to throw away all rational thought and attack a problem. What most people don't realize is that continuing in such a manner is liable to get you and everyone around you killed. _We, _can recognize what needs to be done, and will do it only after careful calculation."

Although many didn't realize it, Luna could be quite wise at times. Sure, she was as mischievous as the Weasley twins and a fair shot more eccentric, but her words always held meaning. Luna was one of the people Adessa found herself most comfortable with. In a way, she admired the older girl, who could contentedly live a lie, if only to challenge herself. Watching Ginny and Luna exit the compartment before her, it hit Adessa that although she held the coveted 'top spot' in the ALFS – with the exception of Emily, of course – she still looked up to most of the older members, like Blaise and Luna. Ginny was an anomaly to her, though. Her raw power was astonishing and frightening, and there were times when Adessa feared that the auburn-haired girl couldn't hold it together, but Ginny was strong in body, mind and heart, to an extent that Adessa couldn't fathom.

She knew of only three other people like that.

One being herself of course, the second being Emily – whose powers could never be fully comprehended by Adessa or the other members of the ALFS, none of whom bothered to even try – and the third being Tairn, or Hex, as he was referred to by the general public. Hex was sixteen and took the seat closest to Emily's left. The seat directly to her left hadn't been occupied in over two hundred years. There had been an…incident with that position a long time ago, and each Master and Mistress of the ALFS had say without a left hand ever since. Hex was nearly equal in rank to Adessa, although her word could still trump his. His past was just about as sketchy as the ALFS itself, and although Adessa knew his family history as well as he did, it was something she would never disclose. There were those in the society that knew, of course, but in such an environment, privacy was respected and the society and personal lives were never mixed. Not intentionally, anyways.

Dragging her trunk out into the aisle – as it would have looked suspicious for a first year to already know charms – Adessa saw Draco, Blaise and Pansy exiting their compartment a ways down. She didn't make any sign that she knew them, as she had, after all, just spent the train ride with Ginny, little sister of a member of the Dream Team. She figured she couldn't speak to them until she was placed in Slytherin, at which point her interactions with Ginny and Luna would have to end.

Adessa was walking with Ginny, Luna and Neville down the train, and suddenly realized that she hadn't seen the Golden Trio come over even once during the train ride to see Ginny. She was Ron's sister, but it was as if he didn't even register the fact that she was on the same train as him. She was about to comment when she spotted Ron, Harry and Hermione brush past them to walk further down the train. Adessa saw Ginny open her mouth to maybe say hello to them, but they just continued on as if she didn't even exist. Luna frowned at the way Ginny's face fell slightly, and Adessa noticed it, too, but neither of them said anything. Ginny, being the youngest of seven children, was used to being less than the center of attention, but her brother and his best friends outright _ignoring_ her…Adessa had never been ignored, really, so she wouldn't know.

Once she had stepped out of the bustling train onto the equally busy platform, Adessa saw a large man she knew to be Rubeous Hagrid, waving his large arms wildly and yelling "Firs' years! O'er here!" Adessa smiled nervously at Ginny, Luna and Neville the way an excited first year should, before bounding off towards the place where the other eleven-year-olds were gathering. She couldn't exactly say she was looking forward to the long and boring boat ride across the Black Lake.

Neville, Ginny and Luna, meanwhile, were loading themselves into a thestral-drawn carriage. After getting comfortable and the carriage lurching to begin moving, Neville commented on how it was amazing that they got the carriages, which were so heavy, to move simply with magic. Neither Ginny nor Luna had the heart to explain to him about the thestrals. He would, after all, what _they_ had seen in order to be able to see the thestrals. They couldn't say, of course. And also, for the moment it was just best to indulge him.

Ginny and Luna kept up a seemingly normal conversation just to placate Neville, who had voiced his discomfort at their initial silence. They weren't really chatty people, but they had built up the guise of being so in their previous years at Hogwarts, and so couldn't back down know without providing a reasonable – and fake – excuse as to why they had changed.

It wasn't long before the majestic castle came into view and their carriage stopped in front of it. Ginny and Luna hopped out quickly, landing gracefully on their feet, but Neville lurched as his feet hit the ground and reached a hand out seeking purchase but finding none, as the girls had already moved away from him and the carriage had set off again. He stumbled and fell, before quickly picking himself up. Ginny could see that his cheeks were bright red with embarrassment, but in the semi-darkness of the evening, she pretended not to notice.

They filed into the Great Hall, and Neville waved goodbye to Luna, who was going over to sit at the Ravenclaw table. Ginny sat down and waited patiently for the first years to arrive. During the sortings of prior years, Ginny had always felt a sense of nostalgia watching the first years, who were sitting in the same place she had, with the same hat on her head. She had been different than most, of course, but it was still the same idea of the sorting hat rifling through your most private place. There was something so utterly wrong about that, that it had once made Ginny almost physically sick.

"_Just so that you can categorize them,"_ she thought bitterly to herself, keeping herself from frowning at the idea, "_It's completely unnecessary."_ Ginny tuned out Neville's anxious chattering, nodding and voicing sounds of approval at the appropriate times. Ron, Harry and Hermione were sitting a ways down, obviously not noticing the at least two empty seats on every side of them – they were no doubt plotting another 'lets-save-the-world' scheme. Over at the Ravenclaw table, Luna, who never really sat with anyone, noticed the Golden Trio as well, looking as oblivious as always.

It was almost as if they didn't care, but Luna knew that they simply didn't notice. They just couldn't get over the fact that they weren't the center of the universe, and the fool, Dumbledore, had pushed them up on a pedestal one too many times for anyone to try conveying that to them. Sure, some of their hair-brained little ploys had worked before, but luck and outside interference had been the only thing keeping them from royally screwing the world up.

Since there wasn't any food or first years yet, the only thing Luna had left to do was think. Everyone had worshipped Harry Potter and his grand defeat of the Dark Lord, and then again in his first and second years – as few knew about the whole 'Sirius Black' incident – but it frustrated Luna to no end that people thought that all that had been done by him and his two little friends, them and them alone.

What about Lily Potter, who was the reason Harry hadn't died at age one or eleven? What about Ginny, who had made sure Harry had found the diary? No one seemed to even care to find out that the Dream Team wasn't quite as miraculous as they made themselves out to be.

Oh, and about the diary. Ginny, who would by no means let herself be controlled by anyone, wasn't fully possessed by the diary. It had been so much easier after the fact, the red-head had told Luna, to just pretend she couldn't remember what she had done. Yes, Tom Riddle's soul had made her kill chickens, write on the wall in blood, but she had performed a spell beforehand that let her hold onto a shred of her own self, and so had been decently conscious at the time. When she had been taken down into the Chamber of Secrets, she'd begun to panic, thinking that maybe Harry Potter, who she'd so carefully planned to come and save her – per Emily's orders, of course – wasn't quite the 'hero' he was supposed to end up as, and would chicken out. He hadn't of course, because the combination of Gryffindor bravery and his own huge ego would never have let him leave a girl in distress, but all he'd done was stab a book with a fang, really, yet no one seemed inclined to point out that a three-year-old could have done that – and by accident, too.

Luna had sat beside Ginny in the hospital wing for three days straight while the girl regained the energy she'd lost to Riddle's horcrux – and yes, the ALFS knew all about the horcruxes. Mme Pomfrey had been mystified as to why it took Ginny so long to get all her strength back, but Luna knew it was simply because Ginny just had _so much_. Luna tossed her blonde hair to the side, letting her radish earrings jingle pleasantly. Although she wasn't as deranged as people thought she was, she had always had a fondness for those earrings, if only the reactions she got because of them.

She winked at Ginny across the room, just as the doors to the Great Hall began to swing open. There was a loud rustle as nearly every head turned to see who would be joining them at Hogwarts for the new school year.


	10. The Sorting and Beginning of the Feast

Hi, people! I know it's been an absurdly long time, but...forgive me, please? Life is hectic, but I hope that I've developed a new vigor for this fic, and I hope to bring you all updates faster than this one has come. Anyways, reviews are what I live off of, so if you want to see more of this, a little - and when I say little, it could be as little as you want - feedback would be nice. Okay, then, enjoy!

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It would be wrong to say that the members of the ALFS had joint minds, like a hive, but they did have a tendency to think around the same thing. It was what came of sharing so much magic all the time, especially in the Council Chamber. They were as similar as could be, and the same went for their differences.

Despite how varied their personalities were – or, at the very least, the personalities they showed to the world – all five of them, being Ginny, Luna, Blaise, Pansy and Draco, were wondering the exact same thing: _"Did I look like that as a first year?"_

The eleven-year-olds that were filing into the Great Hall looked nervous at best, with the grand majority looking about ready to piss themselves. Although it was true that the Great Hall was rather large and possessed some degree of majesty, it really wasn't that scary. It was easy to pick out the muggleborns – they were the ones that held something akin to wonderment in their eyes, but such sentiments were also clouded by fear. _"Fear for what, though?"_ Pansy found herself wondering. The sky – or ceiling, rather, that was charmed to have such an appearance – was clouded and dark, but not the regular thunderstorm it had a tendency to be on the day the school year started. It did rain an awful lot in the region, which was somewhere in Scotland, probably, although few knew for sure, but on the first day of school, excessively so. Some years, Pansy had seen it as an omen – Hogwarts could change people so drastically in such a short space of time, sometimes for better, but also sometimes for the worse. It was almost as if Zeus, Lord of the Sky, was warning the little children away. She had always had a fascination with Greek mythology, especially the way the Greek population hadn't hesitated to make the King of Gods out to be so *ahem* _promiscuous_. Then again, that area of the world did seem to be less…prudish, for lack of a better term, so maybe it was only normal. Pansy pulled herself away from her thoughts – which she quickly realized were completely irrelevant to the current happenings – in time to see McGonagall stop the crowd of first years in front of the riser upon which stood a small stool and the little end table – that Pansy faintly recognized from the numerous times she'd been inside the transfiguration professor's office for some offence or another – upon which the sorting hat had been placed.

A few of the first years pointed at the hat, murmuring things into their comrades' ears. They were probably half-bloods or pure-bloods that had heard tales of the sorting hat from their parents and were recounting them to the muggleborns they'd met on the train. That was always how it was, wasn't it? Pansy could barely remember being in their position, but she did know that she had been scared – scared out of her wits that the defensive charms she'd set about her mind wouldn't hold and the sorting hat would discover everything about the ALFS and then it would all be ruined, everything they had worked for… _"But that didn't happen,"_ she reminded herself, forcing her gaze back down to her empty plate. She could look up again when the sorting actually started. Now was just McGonagall explaining things to them.

Pansy knew she'd always been the weak link.

She's started out at Hogwarts over-confident, believing that she was more talented, stronger than all the other students. Not that she wasn't, of course, but it had kept her from trying to shield that from the world. Luna, who was one position her junior, had taken the time to build up something of a reputation for herself, a bubble that kept people from prying – actually, just kept people _away_ in general – and that kept what Luna knew safe. Pansy hadn't thought to take such precautions. So here she was, worrying herself silly while waiting for more unsuspecting kids to get their minds, their most sacred place, rifled through and prodded, the very depths of their soul weighed and judged.

Ah, _judged_.

Put into categories that so neatly fit the founders, but without regards to the actual students. If you were a Hufflepuff, they said, you were weak and timid, always wanting to help people and be friendly, but in hard situations, failed. Ravenclaws were good for nothing other than knowledge, and even then, they probably wouldn't give it to you unless you were one of them. Gryffindors were Hogwarts' golden children, the ones who could do no wrong. They were the _brave_ and _noble_ ones, who would gladly sacrifice themselves to save another and were always for the good cause. And Slytherins. Apparently, all Slytherins were evil. Pansy scoffed at this thought just as 'Abelard, Scott' was cheered over to Ravenclaw House.

Having a name at a certain point in the alphabet decided a great many things about your Hogwarts career. If you were last, people didn't normally pay attention to you, since the feast started right after, and so you didn't have time to talk to your new housemates before the speech started. If you had your name after a famous person, Harry Potter, say, people were liable to forget to even clap for you. One good thing about the sorting process, though, was that you didn't have to worry about finding the right clique for yourself. If you wanted the 'Emos,' go find a Slytherin if you dared, and ask them. If you were looking for a book club or chess club, you'd be likely to find one with a Ravenclaw. The whole system was horribly stereotypical, but, well, until whatever magic there was on the sorting hat wore off, that was probably how it would stay.

"Abrahms, Jessica," was sorted into Hufflepuff.

"Andrews, Michael," into Ravenclaw.

There was a slew of Gryffindors, Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs until McGonagall read out, "Pearce, Adessa."

The atmosphere seemed to shift slightly, although Pansy didn't think that most in the room noticed. She did, however, see Dumbledore sit up a little straighter in his seat, forehead creasing just the tiniest bit. Could he know already? No. Adessa was far too skilled an Occlumens for that. Pansy watched, a shiver of anticipation running up her spine as Adessa stepped calmly up to the platform, not stumbling like many had. Pansy could feel the hot breath on her neck coming from Blaise, who was seated just beside her. A quick glance told her that his eyes were fixed on the young girl, barely blinking.

Adessa looked perfectly alright, sitting on the stool, while the tight-mouthed woman placed the sorting hat on her head. The fabric flopped down over Adessa's face, but not everyone laughed, like they normally would have. The sorting hat was initially silent, and Pansy pictured Adessa filling her head – or the 'lobby' as Adessa referred to it as, which was essentially the part of her mind that she pretty much censored, and didn't care who saw it – with Slytherin-like images. It was, after all, what she, Blaise and Draco had done, since superior intellect might have put them all with the Ravenclaws, and their sense of ethics might have, at the very worst, placed them all in Gryffindor.

"SLYTHERIN!" roared the hat, and the tension in the room, that Pansy had barely noticed was there, was broken. The Slytherins all cheered, clapping and hooting like the houses normally did. Adessa smiled radiantly – although Pansy knew that it was fake – and skipped over to the Slytherin table where she was welcomed by a few second years, who looked pleased to no longer be the youngest. After Adessa, there were three more Slytherins, two boys and one girl. The two boys didn't catch Pansy's interest, but the girl did. Pansy waited until Dumbledore had finished his speech – which was concluded by a phrase in absolute gibberish that only made the man seem more of a kook than he did before – before turning to Blaise, a disapproving look in her eyes.

"You told me Catarina was going to be home-schooled!" exclaimed Pansy, even before the food had appeared on the table. Blaise shrugged and reached for the serving spoon of the mashed potatoes, which had just appeared. Seeing that the boy wasn't going to answer, Pansy smacked him in the arm. "Blaise!"

"I didn't know she would be here. And you know how my mother's always changing her mind. Maybe she decided that she wanted Catarina to have the 'experience'." Blaise dug the spoon into the fluffy mashed potatoes, withdrawing an outrageous quantity. He dumped it on his plate, where it made an audible squelching noise, before reaching for the roast beef. Pansy eyed the food already on his plate with distaste. It was amazing, how he could eat so much and still retain a perfect figure. She glared at him one more time before reaching for the asparagus. As soon as she had set it down, Blaise was shoving the plate of beef in her face.

"Want any meat, love?"

Pansy took the platter with a vicious glare, before stabbing at a thick slice of roast beef with the meat fork. A horrid grating sound met her ears as the metal prongs met with the platter's metal. She cringed, but dropped the meat onto her plate anyway. She shoved the beef back at Blaise, who nearly dropped it, before reaching across him to get to the mashed potatoes he'd left on his other side. It was the start-of-year feast; she was allowed to pig out. Especially after spending an entire summer with her parents telling her that 'young ladies don't need much to eat'. Yeah. Food seemed like a good idea at the moment. She did, after all, have to regain those nine pounds she'd lost over the summer.

"Hey," said Pansy, in between mouthfuls of mashed potatoes slathered with gravy, "Do you know where Draco is? He sat down with Adrian Pucey, but I don't think he's there anymore." Blaise immediately picked his head up and started looking around at the Slytherin table. Sure enough, the blonde was nowhere to be found. Blaise shrugged, stuffing a chunk of bread into his mouth.

"Prbfly 'n thwrashruhm," announced Blaise. Pansy scowled at him. Blaise swallowed before repeating himself. "I said: he's probably in the washroom." Pansy sighed, turning back to her own meal. Draco did have a tendency to do completely random things, but it did get annoying, and sometimes Pansy wished she could remove those little odd traits from his personality. After a while, she set down her utensils, folded her hands in her lap, and turned to Blaise.

"In the washroom, huh?"

"Yeah."

"You wanna bet on it? Five galleons?"

"Deal."

Five minutes later, Pansy felt a tap on her shoulder. She whipped her head around to face the person. "Draco! Where've you been?" she exclaimed, alerting Blaise as well to the boy's presence. Draco shrugged, gesturing for Pansy to make room for him at her side. She did.

"Washroom," he replied, sitting down. There wasn't much elbow room, but it wasn't necessarily uncomfortable. Blaise smirked, and held a hand out across Draco. Pansy sighed, before rolling her eyes and pressing five galleons into the boy's hand. Draco raised an eyebrow. "You shouldn't make bets like that – for all you know, I could be lying." Blaise quickly pocketed the money, grinning at Pansy, who gave a little 'hmph' and began eating again, taking great care to elbow Draco in the ribs whenever the opportunity presented itself.

"So," began Draco, trying to make conversation, "Catarina's in Slytherin, then?" Blaise nodded. As it turned out, no one who knew that Catarina Zabini existed also knew that she was attending Hogwarts. Blaise didn't generally make a point of mentioning his sister, so she had probably been something of a shock to the Hogwarts population, especially the Golden Trio. Pansy found herself wishing that she had been looking at their faces when Catarina's name had been announced – they often forget that they didn't, in fact, know everything there was to know. Or Granger did, at the very least.

"It's a good thing of I've perfected the art of looking completely unperturbed in all situations," said Blaise, now only picking at his food, rather than stuffing his face with it. Being 'respectable members of pure-blood society', they had to be constantly well-mannered at home, and Hogwarts was a good place to unwind – and get into bad habits. No one could criticize their eating habits, though, since all they had to do was remind someone that Ronald Weasley, one of Hogwarts' golden children, ate like a pig.

"You mean, you didn't know your own sister was going to school here?" asked Draco, raising an eyebrow. Blaise shrugged. Deciding to drop it, Draco reached for a spare plate and set it in front of him. "She's the same age as Adessa, so they'll be in the same dorm to start. Do youthink they'll be friends?" Blaise shrugged again.

"Adessa isn't really Catarina's style, but they should get on just fine."

Draco nodded. Catarina Zabini was a bit of a daredevil, to say the least. She loved getting into just about everything, no matter how risky, and was constantly trying Blaise's patience, and sometimes his own, when he visited the Zabini Estates. Catarina was a leader, and so was Adessa, so they probably wouldn't end up being great friends, but he had a feeling that if they both laid down some ground rules with each other, they wouldn't drive each other crazy. After putting a small roll and a few pieces of asparagus on his plate that he could pretend he was eating, Draco turned his head to observe his least favourite Gryffindors: the Golden Trio.

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You know you wanna hit that little review button..............a word or two is all I need. Seriously.


	11. Welcome to Slytherin

Okay, so I know I've been absolutely horrible with updating, but it's here now, and it's longer than normal. I will try to be more diligent about this, but I can't promise anything. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Disclaimer: J.K. owns the Harry Potter-ness

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Harry, Ron and Hermione had passed a rather uneventful train ride, but they _had_ had time to do an exorbitant amount of plotting. Not _evil_ plotting, mind, but rather the what-evil-forces-can-we-save-people-from-this-year sort of plotting. They had quite rapidly come to the conclusion that Draco Malfoy, son of Death Eater, Lucius Malfoy, was most likely being checked out by Lord Voldemort. It had taken Harry less than twenty minutes to convince Ron and Hermione that Draco had undergone Death Eater training during the summer, and was ready to join their ranks. Ron had agreed with this belief, nodding his head solemnly at his friend's words. On the other hand, although Hermione no longer openly opposed Harry's words, she remained sceptical. Draco Malfoy was, after all, only fourteen – what interest could the darkest wizard of all time have in him?

As they shuffled into the Great Hall, Ron and Harry chatted animatedly about Quidditch, while Hermione walked silently, a small frown adorning her features. It remained there even as the three sat down at the Gryffindor table, some distance away from the rest of their housemates. Hermione was concerned. There were, naturally, many reasons for this: it was school, which meant tests she needed to study for and spells she needed to master; it was entirely possible that their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher would be absolute rubbish; but more importantly, a new year meant that there was _something_ – and she had no idea what it was yet – that they needed to save the world from…again.

She caught Ginny giving her a radiant smile in greeting from one table down, and was about to smile back when she felt a tug on her sleeve. Hermione turned to face Ron, who was looking grave. Hermione's brow creased in confusion.

"Is something the matter?" she asked, voice at a whisper. If it were indeed the case, there was no need to alert the people surrounding them – even though there was at least three feet between them and the next Gryffindor.

Harry and Ron exchanged looks, causing Hermione's eyes to widen. There had to be some terrible problem, considering the way they were looking at each other. The three were suddenly engulfed in a devastating silence, which Harry, after a long pause, was the first to break.

"You see how Malfoy's rubbing his forearm? We were too late – he's already one of them."

Hermione's previously widened eyes grew to the size of saucers as she took in this new information. Surely it couldn't be true! Malfoy was the same age as them, and he wasn't even that smart, right? Yes, he was a Malfoy, known supporters of You-Know-Who, but he was…he was Malfoy! Hermione's jaw dropped open, and she attempted to surreptitiously glance at the blonde in question. His hand was indeed brushing against his arm as he squished himself in between Parkinson and Zabini. Now – which arm did they put the Dark Mark on? This very important question fled Hermione's head as Harry's voice called her back to their conversation.

"We have to tell Dumbledore, Hermione."

"Of course."

Harry looked down at his plate – empty, since the Feast had yet to start. "I don't think…You know what Dumbledore's like – he won't believe Malfoy's evil unless the bloke murders someone. We need evidence, 'Mione." Hermione nodded along. Although it was obvious that the Malfoy family had involvement with the dark arts, Dumbledore would probably never be inclined to believe that _anyone_ was involved with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Hermione leaned in close so that their three heads formed a protective ring.

"We need a plan," she remarked gravely.

**~**~**~**

The Feast had ended at a later time than usual, and so the first years, as well as several second years, were particularly weary as the prefects led them to their respective Common Rooms. Adessa, on the other hand, was fully alert. It was her first night at Hogwarts, and she wanted to remember it, even if it _did _turn out to be horribly boring, like Blaise had advised her it would be. Understandably, Draco, Blaise and Pansy weren't walking with her to the Common Room. Although it was fine for them to act as though they tolerated her, it would be seen as suspicious if a first year student had Slytherin's royalty escorting her to the Common Room, especially on her first night there.

She walked alongside the other first years, and they all remained silent. Although she had no first-hand knowledge of it, Adessa figured that the first years in the other houses were probably already chatting amicably amongst themselves, but not so, for the Slytherins. Formal introductions would be made later, in a proper setting where one could focus their attention upon making a good first impression. Well, more of a second impression really – Adessa could feel the eyes of the older Slytherins boring into them shamelessly, trying to assess the fresh blood. She recognized several faces from her file, but was having difficulty linking the faces to the names and other contents of the profiles she had been given. Oh well. Maybe it would click in her head once they introduced themselves?

Adessa turned her eyes to her surroundings. The prefects had led them down a winding set of stone stairs into the dungeons, which were quite similar to how she had pictured them. The low ceiling and stone walls gave the corridor a spooky feeling, but it was the way the torches upon the walls – the only sources of light – cast shadows about the chilly hallways that she found truly unnerving. Adessa had faced far more intimidating situations before, but she had never done so 'undercover,' as it was called. She subconsciously slipped in closer to the rest of the group.

Halfway down another hallway, the prefect stopped short. He turned to face them all. Adessa's brow creased in slight confusion. Weren't they going to the Common Room? Or was there something they needed to be told, first? The prefects' eyes scanned over the first years, as though making some sort of decision in his mind. Adessa saw him frown slightly in the direction of the other first year girl, before looking up to face the whole of Slytherin house again.

"The password for now is Noble Blood," he began, sweeping his dark eyes over the crowd, "And let me make it clear that _none _of you may tell the password to _anyone_. No matter the situation. We value privacy in Slytherin House, and our password is a _secret_. Do be careful – there are some among us that are quick to turn on those who have spilled our secrets."

Without waiting for some sort of reaction from the assembled Slytherins, the prefect turned to the wall. "Noble Blood," he muttered. The stone wall that had looked so completely solid before simply slid open, as quietly as a raindrop down a windowpane. Adessa couldn't help but be slightly impressed. _Hogwarts: A History_ only said that the Slytherin Common Room was down in the dungeons, but it didn't say exactly where. It had also mentioned that the other houses had doors or portraits guarding them – the latter she considered quite idiotic, considering how flighty some portraits could be – but Slytherin's entrance was…really cool.

Her fellow first years were trying to hide the fact that they were impressed and only succeeding in part. Although Adessa wasn't aware of it, her own face bore the same expression. The Slytherins walked into the Common Room in utter silence, six and seventh years first, followed by third, fourth, and fifths. The second years gave the new Slytherins a tiny shove to get them through the entryway from where they had stood observing their surroundings in awe. The second years had been in their shoes only a year before – it seemed only fit that they helped them out somewhat.

When Adessa stepped into the grand Slytherin Common Room, she couldn't help but be amazed. Green lamps were giving off faint, jade-coloured glows, and companied by the high ceiling, elaborate stone carvings and dark furniture, the whole scene was eerily breathtaking. She saw that some of the older students had already seated themselves on some of the black leather couches and winged armchairs. The rest stood lining the room's extremities, most with their arms crossed, leaning casually against the cold stone walls. All of them, she noticed, were staring at her and the other first years. She said nothing. It was an entirely different experience, to have so many people's attentions focused on her. True, she had spoken at _La Balle de la Rue_, but there had been ancient magic in place there, and so she had been comforted. Now, though, it was making her slightly uneasy. All she wanted was for the horrible silence to break, for someone to cough, sneeze, anything. Finally, after a horridly long pause, the prefect spoke again.

"My name is Isaac Thorne. I am a seventh year and prefect, and so you will obey my word, understood?" A nod from each of them was all he needed before continuing. "Brigitte Wills is your female seventh year prefect, and due to a recent death in her family, she will be arriving later on, possibly some time near the end of this week. I expect you to show her the same amount of respect as you do me, once she arrives. The other prefects will now introduce themselves." Isaac turned over the floor to a burly-looking boy who Adessa immediately assumed to be at least a sixth year, given his considerable size.

"Garret Humphrey," the large boy grunted, before turning and making his way towards what she assumed were the dormitories. _"Well," _thought Adessa, _"That was quick." _The rest of the prefects introduced themselves in a similarly brief manner, with the exception of a few who provided a phrase or two of family history. Adessa recognized the majority of their names as belonging to rather prominent pure-blooded houses, and she was quite sure that her year-mates took notice as well.

She was quite sure that the introduction business was over and done with, and was about to turn into her three year-mates, when she saw Blaise, Pansy and Draco peel themselves away from the walls and began walking calmly towards the little group of first years. Pansy and Draco expertly sidestepped the various chairs and tables in their way as they crossed the room, but Blaise's knee cracked into a side table as he walked past it, eliciting a low hiss from him. A student who looked to be about a sixth year began to snicker at Blaise's momentary lack of poise, but as soon as Pansy's head turned to look at him, a warning hidden beneath her expressionless face, the boy stopped abruptly and suddenly found the upholstery of the couches infinitely interesting.

It was almost surprising – she had known that those three were good at earning respect, but Adessa was still shocked to see that they had managed to build up such a reputation for themselves in only four years without even displaying the extent of their talents. She began to ponder this for a moment, but had to force her musings from her mind as Draco came to stop in front of her and the other first years, with Blaise – still rubbing his knee – and Pansy at his flanks. Draco's tone was even and polite as he spoke.

"I am Draco Malfoy. You've heard of me." It was not a question, but a statement and a true one, at that. After all, who didn't know who the Malfoy Heir was? Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the boys looking entirely unperturbed, while the other had let his jaw drop and was now goggling openly. The girl had the beginnings of a grin on her thin lips. Adessa frowned. The girl looked awfully familiar. She returned her attention to the three in front of her, noting the twinkle in Blaise's eye. She immediately felt uncomfortable. Were they planning something and hadn't told her? Draco continued speaking. "I realize we are…_only_ fourth years, but do remember – we hold more sway with our housemates than you're liable to find from any of our prefects. You'd do well to not antagonize us – we can make your lives _hell_, and we'll enjoy it." At the end of this phrase, Draco's voice darkened, and his eyes took on a hard edge. The boy who had been gaping snapped his mouth shut and made as if to take a step back. Pansy flashed the boy a charming smile, her brilliant white teeth glittering sinisterly in the dim light. _"Honestly! How did the boy even get into Slytherin?"_ Adessa wondered.

Blaise stepped forward just as Draco took a small step back. "Blaise Zabini," he greeted, giving a small mock-bow, "Don't mind Draco and Pansy," at this point, the latter muttered something about 'being capable to introduce herself,' "They can get a little intense at times. We're actually fairly open to helping you lot if it's for a good reason, so don't worry too much." He sent a kind smile to the scared-looking boy, who regained a bit of colour in his cheeks. Naturally, though, Blaise couldn't just leave it at that.

"Seriously, though? Be careful. One misstep and we'll rip your kidneys out and make you eat them."

"What wonderful imagery." The words were out before she could stop them.

It took all the self-control she had to not clamp her hands over her mouth and stare in horror. Even so, the colour drained from her face and every muscle in her body tensed. The _others_ knew to stay silent, so why had she, with all her training at undercover work, spoken out-of-turn? Pansy grinned wolfishly, as she stepped forward herself, and Adessa noticed she was playing the light so that her teeth and eyes would shine in a way that was distinctly eerie. Adessa swallowed almost audibly. Pansy tapped a delicate index finger against her chin, still smiling.

"Isn't it, little Miss Pearce?" Adessa could only nod hesitantly.

"And you, young Mister Seymour? What do you think?" cooed Pansy, turning her dark green eyes to the other boy, the one who had remained calm. He offered up a tight smile.

"I agree with Miss Pearce, Miss Parkinson." His reply was steady; in fact, it was far steadier than she would have expected from any of them, including herself. Although she knew that Pansy and the rest wouldn't actually harm her, the environment was rather foreboding, and Pansy was acting, well, _creepy_. Pansy laughed lightly, although the laughter did not reach her eyes. She fingered a stone that hung from her throat.

"It was the pendant that gave me away, wasn't it?" she giggled. Indeed, upon the pendant – a dark jade stone – was embossed the Parkinson coat of arms. The Seymour boy gave the same forced smile, as though someone was prodding him in the back and telling him to be polite. It would have been almost funny, had he not managed to make it look professional. She made a mental note to research this boy later. Seymour was a rather common name, and she knew of three that were pureblood and of significantly high standing.

"More rather that it was your striking resemblance to Lady Parkinson that alerted me to your identity. I see her beauty in you." The atmosphere was so entirely formal that Adessa felt that even fidgeting would attract the stares of all the Common Room's occupants. A small part of her brain registered that she was holding her breath. Pansy's sinister grin turned cheeky.

"I hope you're not making a pass at my mother with that, Seymour. Now off with you."

The tension broke, and Adessa finally let out her breath, her cheeks warming as she realized that her year-mates, who were in the immediate vicinity, could hear it. Almost in sync, they turned to each other. The scared boy spoke up first, which Adessa found somewhat surprising. "C-C-Cameron Arlington," the boy stuttered out, "P-pleased to m-m-meet you." To Adessa, he didn't look pleased to meet them at all – _scared_ to meet them maybe, but not _pleased_. It was rather unfortunate that one of her year-mates had a stutter, but she recognized the family as a good one, and so she supposed that could compensate.

"Deniel Seymour," interjected the boy Pansy had addressed earlier. He gracefully lifted Adessa's hand – when he had grabbed it, she wasn't sure – to his mouth, and he ghosted his lips over her knuckles, maintaining eye contact. It sent a shiver up her spine. How many years had it taken him to learn that, and to do it so fluidly, too? The Seymour boy did the same with the other girl, who quirked an eyebrow but didn't protest. After he gave a polite nod to Arlington, he stepped back, maintaining an air of confidence. He was quite the charmer, she noticed.

The other girl was about to introduce herself, but was cut off by someone calling from across the room. "Oi! We'll take later, won't we, Cat?" It was Blaise Zabini. Adessa whirled around to look at him, as did the rest of the first years. She hadn't realized he was still in there. A quick glance around the Common Room told her that Pansy and Draco were nowhere to be found, but surely they hadn't gone to their dormitories quite yet? The other first year girl sneered openly at Blaise, before giving one curt nod. Adessa bit her bottom lip, deep in thought as Blaise disappeared down a set of stairs that she hadn't noticed before, probably leading to the dormitories. She couldn't recall any families named Cat, and the girl held herself with the dignity of a pureblood, so who could the girl possibly be? Blaise had addressed her as though they knew each other, so perhaps Cat was a nickname – obviously not a given name – but if so, what relation could she have to Blaise? She didn't recall him as having any cousins in England, or family friends by that name.

The girl turned back to the group, grimacing. "Forgive my arse of a brother – he doesn't know when not to interrupt other people's conversations." Adessa's eyebrows shot up. Blaise had a sister? Blaise had a sister and he _hadn't told her_? The girl – Blaise's _sister_ – seemed to have noticed Adessa's shock, for she spoke again. "I'm Catarina Zabini, by the way. Brother, Blaise. You probably haven't heard of me, but I'm told I caused quite a bit of scandal around the time of my birth." Here, she smirked and her eyes glinted, as though she were reminiscing about something. "Just to clear the air, my father had an affair that ended with unexpected results. Said results stand before you right now." Catarina Zabini gestured to herself, still smirking. Adessa was surprised that any pureblood would simply explain a family member's affair – normally, such subjects were avoided as much as humanly possible. "I only spend a couple weeks a year with Blaise, his mother and whoever she's married to at the time, so I don't really know him that well, but…I suppose I know him better than you lot do." It was all Adessa could do to keep her expression the same. She had been through _life-threatening_ situations with Blaise in the ALFS, which meant _she _knew him better. Oh well. Now wasn't the time for competitiveness.

Deniel Seymour seemed to be somewhat stumped at how to respond to such bluntness, and she caught him looking towards her to move things along. She quickly did so. "Adessa Pearce," she announced, giving a small wave towards them. They obviously knew who she was, since they had probably been to _La Balle de la Rue_ or had at least heard about it from their parents, and so there was no need to tell them. Since the introductions had been taken care of, she turned to Deniel.

"So it's Deniel, then? Not Daniel?"

"You are correct," he replied with a nod.

"That's interesting. It's not a very traditional name, is it? I heard the Seymour's were freaky-conservative," remarked Catarina. Deniel smiled placatingly.

"I suppose you're thinking of the Norwich Seymour's. My family's centered nearer Bristol." Catarina gave a short nod, her and pink showed up in her cheeks. Deniel's smile kept up. "Don't worry, it's an honest mistake." In a way, Adessa was glad that it had been Catarina to speak. She herself would have thought him to be of the Norwich Seymour's, given how stiffly polite he seemed to be. Adessa, Catarina and Deniel all turned to look at Cameron as he piped up nervously.

"I'm n-n-nearer M-Manchester…" his wide eyes flickered between the three of them, as he realized he had just drawn all their attentions to him. "And y-y-you, A-Ad-dessa?" he questioned, trying to direct their focus away from him. Deniel 'tsked' lightly.

"Now, now. Everyone knows the Pearce Estates are Unplottable." Catarina scowled at Deniel as he spoke.

"Apparently not," she pointed out, glaring at him reproachfully. Deniel raised an eyebrow, straightening his back so as to use his height advantage of a good five inches on the stick-like Catarina, whose scowl deepened. Adessa could tell that they weren't going to take well to each other. She supposed, though, that since there were only the four of them going into Slytherin this year, they would probably be rather close. The other houses had all had fifteen or twenty students. Although this would provide them with better chances for 'bonding,' it also meant that they were sorely outnumbered.

They eventually made themselves comfortable in a cluster of armchairs near the Common Room's entrance. The group exchanged few words, mostly concerning their families, until it was a sufficiently late hour for them to head to their dormitories. A fifth year girl pointed them in the direction of the dormitories – the girl's, down the stairs to the right of the fireplace; the boy's, down the stairs on the left. The first door was for the first years, the second for the second years and so forth. The girl also advised them that if they wanted to talk to someone, it was best to wait for them in the Common Room or ask an older student to fetch them rather than go down to their dormitory. When Catarina questioned her, the girl merely shrugged, saying it was just the way things were done. When Adessa asked whether their Head of House would speak to them, the girl simply smiled at them and turned back to her conversation with her friend.

She and Catarina had bidden the boys goodnight – Catarina, rather cooly – and had headed down the set of stone steps on the right. Adessa had expected the door to be right there, but she and Catarina ended up heading down the twisting staircase for at least twenty steps – the air getting steadily colder as they went – before they came to the first door. It was made of dark wood, almost black, and was set in deeply against the stone walls. As Adessa reached for the brass doorknob, she saw that her and Catarina's names had been engraved into the wood of the door in cursive gold lettering. It must have been done by magic, she figured, since she doubted the school replaced the doors each year just so they could put the occupants' names on them.

Adessa grasped the doorknob and turned it. The door swung open, revealing a sizeable room with two four-poster beds, draped in Slytherin green. The walls were stone as well, and she figured that it probably ran throughout the whole of Slytherin house. There were two dressers on the far wall, both in dark wood. The two girls stepped inside silently, taking in there new room. There was a door to the right of the dressers, which she assumed led to the bathroom. Catarina went right ahead and planted herself upon the bed furthest from the door, noting appreciatively that the mattress was soft underneath her. Adessa wouldn't object to Catarina's choice of bed, although she would have preferred being farther from the entrance. Adessa made her way over to the dressers, where their trunks had been deposited. Her owl was perched atop her trunk, and was being pawed at by a black cat, which she assumed belonged to Catarina.

"Get away from there, Annie," called Catarina, and the cat let out a hiss, but slunk away from the cage nonetheless. It darted over to Catarina and leapt into her lap. Catarina curled her fingers into the cat's soft dark fur as the creature glared at Adessa's owl with murderous amber eyes. Adessa grinned as she knelt down next to her owl. Her grin only widened as the eagle owl hopped down onto the floor, fluffing mottled grey feathers. The owl hooted angrily at the cat, which responded with a particularly vicious hiss.

"It looks like my Henia doesn't like your cat very much," Adessa noted, smiling, "How long have you had her, Catarina?" Catarina grinned.

"Call me Cat. And Annie isn't a girl, he's a boy." Seeing Adessa's questioning look, she explained. "Annie's my nickname for him. Father named him Anthracite, like coal, you know?" Catarina didn't wait for an answer before continuing. "Anyway, I tried renaming him, but he wouldn't answer to anything else, so I started calling him Annie, and he seemed to like that." Catarina scratched behind the cat's ears, smiling widely when the black cat stretched out on her lap, purring deeply.

Henia seemed to sniff almost haughtily at the sight of her tormenter in obvious pleasure and fluttered her wings once before turning away and hopping back towards Adessa, who held out her arm for the owl. Henia flew up to settle herself upon the offered forearm, gazing distrustfully at Anthracite. Adessa stroked Henia's plumage, making the owl hoot softly in contentment. "Aren't you supposed to be in the Owlery?" she murmured, and Henia cooed as though in reply. Adessa sighed.

"I'll go get this one up to the Owlery, then," she told Catarina, who simply nodded, still absorbed with her cat. Adessa pushed open the door to their room, careful to shut it quietly on her way out.

Once she had walked up into the Common Room, she was unsurprised to find that there were only a handful of Slytherins still there. A third year girl raised an eyebrow upon seeing Henia, perched on Adessa's arm. "Can your owl apparate or something? I wouldn't even try getting that back up to the Owlery – it's on the other side of the school, and it's only, like, five minutes before we have to be inside our Common Rooms." Adessa sighed.

No matter how smart she was, there was no way she could get to the other side of the school and back in five minutes, especially since this was only her first day here and she was liable to get lost. Adessa sighed, realizing that Henia was going to have to spend the night in her and Catarina's room. She could only hope the girl wouldn't mind.

"Hey," called a voice from behind her, and she jumped. Adessa turned to face the speaker. It was a third year boy, and from the introductions all the Slytherins had given, she recalled his name as being Graeme Firth.

"Uh, hello?" she replied, unsure of what he wanted. He gestured towards Henia.

"If you want to get your bird up to the Owlery, I can tell you how." Adessa narrowed her eyes, somewhat suspicious.

"…Okay, I suppose." Graeme grinned, taking a step forward so he was standing right in front of her. He leaned in and spoke in a whisper.

"If you go down the boys' staircase and pull on the second torch on the right side, it opens up a passage. The stairs lead to a tower with an open window. You can let your bird out there and she'll fly to the Owlery. You can't let Isaac or the fifth year prefects catch you, 'cause no one's supposed to know about it. Brigitte's okay for that sort of thing, but she isn't here yet. If you look remorseful, Garret'll forgive you for anything. He may look tough, but he's a pretty sweet guy." He stepped back, still grinning, as Adessa considered the information. This Graeme had just given her some very valuable information concerning the prefects, should she ever get in trouble with one of them. She eyed him, wondering why he was choosing to tell her this, but he was already walking towards the boy's staircase before she could get the question out.

"And don't tell anyone I told you," he called out, his voice carrying in the stone-walled room. The corner of Adessa's mouth curled. Everything about his body language had indicated that he was being sincere. She was an expert at seeing people's lies, and so if Graeme was trying to get her in trouble, than he was just as good a liar as she was.

Graeme hadn't said anything about the rest of the Slytherins being adverse to her knowing about the secret passage, and so Adessa figured that if she didn't make too much of a fuss about it, she could go over there even with some people still in the Common Room. After all, the prefect, Isaac, had said that Slytherins valued their privacy – surely they would respect hers. She dragged her fingers through Henia's soft grey feathers once more before padding quietly over to the boy's staircase. She didn't even look back to see if anyone was watching her, just descended the stairs.

The first torch was a little ways down, but the second one was only a short distance further. She realized that where she was standing, in front of the torch, she could be seen from neither the door of the first year dormitory, nor the second year dormitory. Whoever had built the passage had thought well. Adessa wrapped her hand firmly around the torch bracket and pulled. It came down easily, like a lever. The section of wall slid open, just like the Common Room entrance, only this one opened to reveal a set of ascending stairs.

She glanced behind her briefly, before stepping forward into the passageway. The winding stairs seemed to go on forever, and by the time they came to a stop, she was just glad it was over. Adessa looked around, wondering where this window was. A breeze blew her dark locks around her face, and she turned towards the source of the wind. Sure enough, there was a small window, barely noticeable since the blackness of the night outside didn't bear a strong contrast to the near pitch-darkness of the tower she was in. Adessa moved towards the window and peered out.

She was barely one story above ground, but Adessa supposed it was enough. She pushed her arm bearing Henia out the window, who took the hint and flew out into the night. Adessa stayed by the window, watching her eagle owl circle one of the towers in the moonlight, before she turned to descend the stairs once again.

When she returned to her dormitory, Catarina had already gone to bed. She had left the light on, so that Adessa could see. Adessa changed in the bathroom – which was rather small with a toilet, a sink and then a small shower tucked into the corner – before creeping as quietly as she could to her bed. She slipped underneath the crisp sheets, flicking her wand gently.

"_Nox."_

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Like? Dislike? Comments? Please review! Reviews make me update noticeably faster, and they make my self-esteem go up, even if they're negative! I'm fairly open with where this is going, so if you want to see more of something or less of something or anything like that, please tell me in a review!


	12. Time to Wake Up

Hehe. Don't you love me for updating so soon? Anyway, this chapter's about half as long as the previous one, but to be fair, that was a longer one.

Disclaimer: Don't own the Harry Potter world and it's people.

* * *

As a rule, Adessa was a fairly light sleeper. Used to sleeping out in high-risk areas for ALFS missions, Adessa had trained herself, body and mind, to be able to leap up at the slightest noise or movement to defend herself and her partners from an attacker. Therefore, she had thought that having a roommate would be pure hell – especially one with a cat. Anthracite had kept her up for many a long hour, and so although the animal had actually been quite unobtrusive – washing itself down on occasion, readjusting its position on Catarina's bed – Adessa couldn't help but wish she could just throw the bloody thing out the window. But of course that wasn't possible – firstly, because, being underneath the Black Lake and all, the Slytherin Dungeons had no windows, and secondly, _mainly_, because Catarina would probably have a fit if she found out Adessa had murdered her cat the first night. Even worse than having a roommate who _breathed_ (one more noise to block out at night) was having a roommate who hated you. And so she endured.

Sleep had finally come to her between the hours of two and three – the last non-verbal time-telling charm she remembered casting under the cover of her sheets had revealed the time to be 1:50am. She had been pleased to note that while Anthracite seemed to find it immensely entertaining to _move_ every thirty seconds, Catarina slept about as restlessly as a rock. Adessa had told herself, while trying to fall asleep, that she would aim to head down for breakfast at twenty past seven, and so she intended to wake for half past six.

Not the case.

Later, looking back on the incident, her cheeks would burn and she would duck her head at how she had reacted that morning, for when the door of her and Catarina's dormitory slammed open with a brutal force and four dark, shadowy figures swept in, absolutely _none_ of her ALFS training kicked in. She vaguely registered a cry of _Lumos Maximus_, and the room was immediately flooded with a searing white light. Only after her eyes could focus once again did she make a grab for her wand on the nightstand, only to find that it was no longer there.

One of the cloaked intruders held the slim stick of wood in his hands – and she assumed all the intruders to be male, given their slightly heavier-set forms (either that or they were _extremely_ butch girls). He was twirling her most prized possession in his hands as though it were a trifle he had picked up and had yet to find a real use for. Underneath his heavy hood, she could see a smirk forming on the lower half of his face. She frowned. They looked much too young to be dark wizards, and besides – Hogwarts was so heavily warded that there was no way these intruders could have gotten all the way into the Slytherin Dungeons without anyone noticing.

Adessa's eyes stayed fixed on her wand, as its current carrier studied the slender wood carefully. His fingers slid up and down its length thoughtfully, almost sensually. The smirk on his face grew wider and she knew that he recognized its full power – her wand was especially potent. Although she couldn't see his eyes, which were still hidden by his hood, she imagined that they were glittering appreciatively. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Catarina was sitting bolt upright in her bed, dark eyes glued to her wand, which had been taken from her by the more squat intruder of the four.

There were obviously many options. She could scream, make a break for it, leave Catarina to her own devices – Adessa _was_ nearer to the door, after all – or she could simply wait and see how this played out, see if they intended to harm them or abduct them. Using wandless magic – of which she was certainly capable – was out of the question; most first years could barely cast a levitation spell, let alone do wandless magic on their first day. In fact, most strong, adult wizards could only hazard a _Lumos_ or an _Alohomora_ without a wand.

"Four-thirty," leered the intruder holding Adessa's wand, "Time to wake up."

It happened so fast.

The two other figures had lunged forward, grabbing Adessa and Catarina by the collars of their nightgowns, heaving them out of their beds. She heard Catarina swear loudly and begin to shriek angrily at their assailants, but she didn't look over to the other girl – Adessa was too busy with her attacker.

Adessa was exceptionally skilled in magic – she knew that, the other ALFS members knew that. She was also a skilled fighter. Even so, no matter how expert her technique was, it still didn't change the fact that she was a petite eleven-year-old girl. When she sent a kick towards her attacker's gut, she could have sworn he laughed. It was horribly embarrassing, being manhandled in such a way, and the shame only increased as she was slung over the intruder's back like a sack of potatoes. Now facing the rest of the room, Adessa could see the same happening to Catarina, although the other girl seemed to fighting it a fair shot harder. If Adessa hadn't been in such a precarious situation as she was, she surely would have laughed out loud as Catarina's jaws made a snap for her attacker's left earlobe. The bony girl missed, but only just. Catarina's captor still had his hood down completely over his face, so she couldn't see his reaction, but she imagined that he was _not_ impressed, as she saw him give the girl a hard shake, causing her body to fall back against his shoulder.

One thing that was imperative was to remain calm, and so Adessa breathed deeply, trying to focus her mind. If she angled it right, she could kick her assailant in the groin, and if she leapt over him as he keeled over towards the one who had stolen her wand and right hook him in the wrist so he dropped her wand…she could then stun him and do the same to the other. Since the one carrying Catarina was using both hands to hold the girl in place, Adessa could count on him having to waste several seconds getting to his wand. So it was a plan. Adessa took a deep breath to steady herself, then drew a leg back and –

All thoughts flew from her head as a ferocious battle-cry was heard: Anthracite the Cat had launched himself from underneath Catarina's sheets to impact sharply with the intruder holding Adessa's wand. He dropped the wand, lifting both hands in an attempt to pry the cat away from his face, where it hung on with its claws embedded deeply into the boy's face. The small black blob seemed to have surprised everyone so much that even as Catarina's aggressor let her slide to the floor – head-first – in his shock, the girl still stared dumbly at her cat that had attached itself so firmly to the person's face.

Adessa took this as her cue – a swift kick to the crotch bent her captor double, and she took the opportunity to race over and grab her wand off the floor where it had been dropped. She opened her mouth to stun the one holding Catarina's wand, but hadn't factored into the equation Annie's victim viciously tearing the cat from his face, throwing it across the room – where it collided solidly with the wall – and whipping out his own wand, hitting her with a full non-verbal body-bind before she even realized what was happening.

She had no idea how everything had happened – sure, one weakness that Emily always pointed out was that Adessa was fairly slow with her spells, but that didn't change the fact that a non-ALFS member had managed to outspell her. She had heard that there were always some potential candidates that didn't make it in because there blood wasn't totally pure, and so their powers, diluted. This must be one of them; there was no way, she believed, that anyone could exist on the same skill level as them and not have been recognized by the society. Adessa's brain whirred into action, trying to discern who this could possibly be. As it turned out, she didn't have to think hard.

As he had thrashed about, attempting to dislodge Anthracite from his face, the boy's hood had been knocked back, exposing sandy blonde hair and angular, almost elfish, features. Taking a proper look at the boy for the first time since he had burst so rudely into her and Catarina's dormitory, she found herself, with great astonishment, looking up into the face of none other than Graeme Firth.

His face was near impossible to read as he met her gaze, but when he looked away after a handful of seconds, she could detect some uncertainty in his hazel eyes. Unable to move under the spell, Adessa could only stare at him as he jerked his head, a signal for her assailant to lift her up again. She didn't have to turn her head – made impossible by the body-bind – to realize that Catarina was being picked up as well.

The boy still holding Catarina's wand kept looking up towards Graeme, as though waiting for some sort of order. Adessa sought out some sort of answer from Graeme herself, surprised to find that he was actively trying to avoid meeting her gaze. Finally, after a long and uncomfortable pause, Graeme looked up from staring at the floor. Even so, an idiot could tell that he was staring at her forehead, not her eyes.

"Well?" he demanded gruffly, shoving his hands into the large pockets of his robes, which she was now beginning to see, was just an over-large travelling cloak, "Go, already."

Immediately, the boys carrying them moved towards the door. As they did so, the hood of Catarina's captor fell back, revealing the face of none other than Vincent Crabbe, who she knew to be in Draco's year. In Adessa's shock, she didn't even notice Catarina's screaming until Adessa was being carried out the door and into the stale, chill air of the girl's stairwell.

"Get the fuck off of me, you filthy rat-bastards! Don't you even know who I am?" shrieked Catarina, loud enough to wake all the Slytherin girls and possibly some of the boys as well. But no one emerged from their dormitories to see what the problem was. Catarina carried on screaming. "And you've killed my cat!" tears were streaming down Catarina's bronzy cheeks now. "My father will have you arses in Azkaban for this! Put me the fuck down!"

Adessa herself would have liked to scream at their attackers – especially Graeme, who had seemed so sincere and kind just the night before. It was obvious that no one in Slytherin was to be trusted. Unfortunately, though, her mouth was frozen shut from the silent _Petrificus Totalus_ Graeme had sent at her moments earlier. She found herself wondering why he didn't just do the same to Catarina – it would save him the noise, as well as the trouble – but then she saw a tiny smirk on his face, directed at Catarina as he walked past her; he was enjoying her screaming. When he caught Adessa looking, the smirk dropped from his face.

She did her best to convey disdain for him through her eyes, but it was unclear whether or not it worked – Graeme was still refusing to look at her. The boy gripping Catarina's wand shut the door to their dormitory quietly behind her, which Adessa found totally unnecessary, considering Catarina's screaming should have done a good enough job at waking everyone up. Adessa's gaze flickered anxiously down the stairs, trying to see if anyone was coming out of their dormitories yet. Surely the Slytherins weren't so fond of privacy that they wouldn't intrude on this when two students were obviously getting _kidnapped_. But no help seemed to be arriving.

From the boy's stairwell, someone screamed.

* * *

Suspenseful? I really hope it is. Okay, so please review and tell me anything that whizzed through your mind while reading this, yeah?  
Anyway, hopefully I'll get the next chapter out with haste!


	13. Author's Note

**Alright. Here it is.  
**It's probably obvious that I haven't updated in a ridiculously long time. It's probably also obvious (to most of you, I hope) that these aren't exactly prime literature. I haven't actually looked at these in a while, but I do recognize that my characters could all have happily changed their names to Mary Sue and not given a second thought about it. As a writer, I'm kind of ashamed to have stories that lean in this direction, so this fic is hereby discontinued. If you _really, really want_ to keep me writing it, I'd need a lot of reviews saying as much, but then I'd also revamp it completely so that it's more realistic and generally _better_, but keep in mind that these are almost certainly dead. But yes. I will keep writing, most likely in these fandoms, and I can promise you that my characters will not be dizzyingly intelligent, beautiful, powerful, amazing people. Feel the shame radiating off me in waves. I'll also be changing my penname (this one feels awfully stale) so this is the last you'll be hearing from me under this name.

**Thanks for reading/reviewing!  
RainbowFlavouredMischief**


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